


IT Rewrite || Eddie Kaspbrak x Reader

by yurtletheturtlehenderson



Series: IT Rewrite || Reader Insert [1]
Category: IT - Stephen King
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-03
Updated: 2020-01-18
Packaged: 2021-01-20 23:07:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 50,763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21289682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yurtletheturtlehenderson/pseuds/yurtletheturtlehenderson
Summary: ⇢ Eddie Kaspbrak x Reader [1/2] ⇠In the summer of 1989, a group of eight bullied kids band together to destroy a shape-shifting monster, which disguises itself as a clown and preys on the children of Derry, their small Maine town.×××ALL RIGHTS GO TO STEPHEN KING AND ANDY MUSCHETTI + WARNER BROS STUDIOS. Hell this ain't even my description, it's the synopsis for the first movie 🤭😆
Relationships: Ben Hanscom/Beverly Marsh, Eddie Kaspbrak & Richie Tozier, Eddie Kaspbrak/Reader
Series: IT Rewrite || Reader Insert [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1534733
Comments: 5
Kudos: 44





	1. •After The Flood•

\- October 1988 -

Gray skies and a thick layer of storm clouds blanket the town of Derry, Maine. Bill Denbrough sits in bed, he was tearing out a piece of paper from his sketchbook. His mother is downstairs on the piano, playing Für Elise. A song that would haunt him for the rest of his life. That song was playing the day Georgie died, he would think. Georgie, Bill's younger brother was at the window.

He had fogged up the glass with his breath, and he drew a large smiley face on the glass, just before it disappeared. He turned over his shoulder to look at his brother, who was folding a paper boat for him.

"You sure I won't get in trouble, Bill?"

"Don't be a w-wuss." Bill replied.

Bill had always had a stutter, and everyone who knew him was used to it. When he was three, he had been hit by a car and knocked into a building, and he remained unconscious for seven hours. This accident, his mother had said, caused the stutter. His stutter was light but it got worse after Georgie disappeared.

"I'd come with you if I weren't," he stopped abruptly and coughed forcefully into his hand. "dying."

Georgie stood from the window and walked over to his brother, sighing. "You're not dying!"

He hated that his brother joked about stuff like that, he'd hate it if something really happened to him.

"You didn't see the v-v-vomit coming out of my nose this morning?" He asked incredulously.

Georgie cringed. "That's disgusting."

Bill looked down at the finished paper boat. "Okay. Go get the wax."

Georgie became uneasy. He shifted on his feet. "In the cellar?"

Georgie was terrified of the cellar. He always imagined dangers of the unimaginable lurking at the bottom, waiting to snatch him up. He knew it was silly, but every time he would reach for the light, the image of long sharp talons reaching out for his tiny little hand.

"You want it to f-float, don't you?" Bill asked simply.

"Fine," he sighed.

Georgie left Bill's room, not before grabbing his walkie talkie and headed downstairs. His legs, he realized, were moving slower than normal. A fact he was fine with if it meant it took longer to get to the cellar. He passed his mother in the dining room, where she sat at the piano, her fingers dancing along the keys. The music added a chilling tone that made his nerves spike.

When Georgie reached the kitchen, he slowed. The cellar door was open and he could hear that same sinister voice in the back of his head, promising his demise. Georgie gulped, but oh, how he wanted that boat!

Bill wouldn't be scared. Bill was never scared of the cellar, so neither should he!

Georgie walked slowly over to the door, gently pushing it open. The door made a sickening creak and he crept to the edge of the stairs, hoping whatever possible creature lurked at the bottom wouldn't hear him. His breathing picked up and he gulped, he could hear something clattering down there!

A sharp, piercing beep rang in his ears, startling him.

"Georgie," It was just Bill from the walkie talkie. "Hurry up."

Struggling to regain his composure, he clung to the wall, reaching for the light and tried not to think about the claw that could take his arm. His fingers reached the switch and flicked it back and forth. Nothing. He would have to go down into the cellar. In the dark.

Georgie took several deep breaths, desperately attempting to swallow his fear.

"It's okay," he whispered under his breath. "I'm brave."

He trudges down the cellar stairs, an iron grip on the railing, letting darkness engulf him. He sighed when he reached the bottom. He had made it down the stairs. But now came the hard part. Taking a deep breath he began looking around, squinting in the dark trying to find the gulf wax and get the hell out of there.

"Where's the wax?" He mumbled. "There's the wax. Yes."

Georgie always felt that as long as he could talk, even if he was alone, he was at least somewhat safe. Perhaps hearing a voice, even his own was something to distract him from his fears. He stood on his tippy toes, extending his arm, reaching for the paraffin wax for his boat.

He got it! Now he could leave the nasty old cellar. It always smelled sewage and gook you'd find in a gutter. It was a nasty smell. The cellar smell. But something in Georgie told him to look up, and he did. What he saw made him back up.

In the sea of darkness, he saw two bright and shiny orbs, staring at him. Stalking him. His heart beating rapidly in his chest and he stifled a gasp. The flashlight. For some unknown reason that baffled him, he hadn't grabbed the flashlight next to him on the dryer before.

He quickly grabbed it, his hands shaking as he felt for the button with his other hand. He pressed it and the light shined brightly, illuminating nothing but the same old shelf across the room. The two orbs, he realized, were just two empty jars that must have caught the light that made it through the tiny cellar windows behind him.

But he couldn't shake the feeling something had been watching him. Something that was still watching him. He needed to leave, immediately, he thought. And he did.

He heard a loud clatter near him, something he would never be able to identify, that was soon followed by a crack of thunder. He jumped into a sprint for the stairs, more words tumbling out of his mouth.

"What was that? What's that? Oh, jeez!"

He scrambled up the stairs, still clutching the flashlight firmly in his hands. The light jumped up and down the walls as he moved his arms and Georgie was certain he had never run the fast.

But it was fine now. He was out of the cellar and he had the wax for his boat.

Now, he stood next to Bill at his desk, his left arm wrapped loving around his older brother. He studied Bill's technique as he painted the paper boat - the boat now labeled the 'SS Georgie' in black marker - with paraffin wax.

Bill set the paintbrush back in the bowl of wax and picked up the boat by the edges. He turned to Georgie.

"Alright," he handed the SS Georgie to his little brother and smiled. "There you go. S-she's all ready, Captain."

Confusion and interest flickered over Georgie's face. "She?"

Bill nodded. "You always call b-b-boats 'she'."

"'She'," Georgie nodded, liking the new interesting fact. "Thanks, Billy."

Georgie extended his arms and pulled his brother in for a hug, who gladly accepted. Georgie gave him a big squeeze and Bill smiled. He gently prodded his fingers in Georgie's side, knowing just where his brother was ticklish.

Georgie giggled and pulled back, and Bill smiled. Georgie grabbed the walkie and ran skipping out of the room.

"See you later. Bye!" Georgie called disappearing into the hallway.

When he heard the front door close moments later, he rose to his feet and went to the window.

There on the sidewalk was Georgie, who was now dressed in his yellow slicker and matching rain boots. He was gleaming and sent a big happy wave to Bill, who tentatively waved back.

Bill didn't know why he felt the way he did suddenly. He felt a sense of dread, that he ignored at that moment. Something he would be kicking himself for, for the rest of his life.

But he did bring his walkie up to his lips and spoke.

"Be careful,"

He had no idea what compelled him to say that. And he remembered thinking that was something you'd usually hear from a mom or a dad. Not your brother. But he shook it off.

Bill watched as his brother placed the boat into the small stream that formed in between the curb and the street. The boat took off and so did Georgie.

That was the last time Bill ever saw Georgie alive.

He ran alongside his boat in a happy sprint. No matter how fast he ran, she was quicker. As he'd run he jump off the curb into the large puddles, watching them splash. Then he'd jump right back up and run off the grass again.

The SS Georgie sped down the street. She zipped and zoomed and Georgie watched with delight, giggling merrily. She sped right under a sawhorse on the road. Printed on it, with big black letters were the words: DERRY PUBLIC WORKS.

Georgie was sure to duck when he reached it, his boat just ahead by his feet. He was still bent over, eyes still on the boat, he failed to notice the second sawhorse just as he straightened.

THUNK!

Georgie lay on the concrete, his forehead and lower half sore from the fall and he winced. He could feel the stream of rain soaking his pants and sneaking into his boots.

The boat! The boat was still getting away. He scanned the street, squinting through the splashback of thousands of raindrops in the street, but he finally spotted the boat. She had just hit a corner, but she persisted. She had no trouble getting around the large obstacle in the street and she turned. Georgie jumped to his feet and chased after her.

His legs were small but they run fast. But not fast enough to reach the boat in time before it hit a snag and twirled into a storm drain.

"No!" He cried, kneeling down into the gutter. "No, Bill's gonna kill me!"

He peered into the gutter, squinting for the boat. Maybe it wasn't as steep as it looked, he thought. Maybe he could reach her. But his thoughts were suddenly cut short.

A pair of yellow eyes opened in the darkness. They gleamed brightly and they were fixed right on Georgie. He jumped back with a frightful yelp. A darkened figure slithered forward.

"Hiya, Georgie!"

From the small portion of the face that was showing, he could see a pale white face, with blood-red lips. The ends of the lips trailed all the way up in sharp lines and didn't seem to stop. The smile was big and cartoonish, it was unnatural and he had two large teeth that reminded Georgie of a rabbit. But if he wasn't mistaken, the figure in the storm drain was a clown?

The voice was cheerful and light, but it was gravelly and deep. Georgie didn't like this voice or the feeling it brought.

And had Georgie been wrong before? I must have, he thought because the eyes were now a bright blue. But his attention was immediately drawn to the object in the clown's hand.

"What a nice boat." The clown said, showing it the boy. "Do you want it back?"

Georgie, was still very much startled from the turn of events, frowned uneasily. Yet he nodded.

"Um, yes please."

The face tilted its head and smiled a crooked grin. "You look like a nice boy. I bet you have a lot of friends."

Georgie tilted his head, slowly his guard came down, but he couldn't quite shake the uneasy feeling in his gut. Nevertheless, he answered, timidly.

"Three. But my brother's my best best."

The face gleamed, perking up in interest.

"Where's he?"

Georgie noticed the slobber pooling in the clown's lower lip, and it dribbled over in long streams. He was drooling. Georgie tried not to stare. He had learned well and good from his mother that it was not polite to stare.

"In bed. Sick."

The shadowy face seemed to contemplate something for a brief moment.

"I bet I could cheer him up. I'll give him a balloon!"

Georgie looked away briefly, feeling very uneasy. The clown, who noticed the boy's hesitation and perked up.

"Do you want a balloon too, Georgie?"

"I'm not supposed to take stuff from strangers." The boy answered.

"Oh," He scoffed happily. "Well, I'm Pennywise the Dancing Clown!"

He shook his head, and a small flurry of jingles accompanied.

"'Pennywise?' 'Yes.'" The clown spoke to Itself and answered, feigning a conversation. "'Meet Georgie.' 'Georgie, meet Pennywise.'"

Georgie couldn't help the small chuckle that escaped his throat, and Pennywise smiled.

"Now we aren't strangers, are we?"

At that moment, the inhabitant of the house just in front of that very storm drain stepped out onto her porch. She held her coat tightly to herself and shivered. The wind chimes were waving sporadically and tapping against the outdoor blinds.

She grabbed the ropes and pulled the curtains up, surprised to see a young boy in a bright yellow raincoat leaning into the sewer. She frowned, losing interest and steeped away, her cat at her feet still watching.

"What are you doing in the sewer?" Georgie asked curiously.

"A storm blew away," Pennywise drawled. "Blew the whole circus away."

Pennywise chuckled with the very same high and gravelly voice before his face fell unexpectedly. The clown stared at Georgie, his friendly mask falling briefly.

"Can you smell the circus, Georgie?"

Georgie frowned in confusion. He leaned ever so slightly forward.

"There's peanuts, cotton candy, hot dogs, and...?"

Georgie could in fact smell all those things. He could smell the sweet sugary aroma of cotton candy and he could practically taste the salty flavor of peanuts. But underneath all that, he could smell the familiar vulgar and repulsive stench. The cellar smell.

But then he got a strong burst of popcorn.

"Popcorn?"

"Popcorn!" The figure chuckled and nodded eagerly. "Is that your favorite?"

Georgie smiled for the first time in the interaction, and he nodded. "Uh-huh."

"Mine too!" Pennywise chuckled, and voice cracked. "Because they pop. Pop, pop, pop!"

Georgie giggled at the funny noise, and Pennywise continued.

"Pop, pop, pop."

"Pop," Giggled Georgie.

Pennywise cackled along with Georgie but stopped suddenly. He stared at Georgie, drool dribbling down his chin once more and he was stared at Georgie hungrily.

The uneasy feeling returned to Georgie. He could feel the pit in his stomach blooming. He forced a polite smile, unable to hide his discomfort.

"I should get going now,"

"Oh," The clown licked its lips, "Without your boat?"

Georgie frowned. He wanted to get far away from the storm drain. Run all the way home and snuggle up under the safety of Bill's covers, where he would be protected, and never look back. Never think about the creepy clown in the sewers. But something else was knawing at Georgie, a doubt deep-seeded in the back of his mind. A doubt Pennywise brought to light.

"You don't want to lose it, Georgie," the clown warned. "Bill's gonna kill you,"

Bill would. He would be very mad at Georgie. For bothering him while he was sick, goading him into making that stupid boat and to lose it. Immediately after going to all that trouble. Bill would be disappointed. That's what worried Georgie, and he didn't want his brother being mad at him.

Pennywise extended the boat, ever so slightly, and grinned. His smile looked like that of the Cheshire cat, stretching into impossible lengths.

"Here," the whisper chilled Georgie to his very bones. "Take it."

He would take the boat, and say his thanks, and leave. The voice grew impatient.

"Take it, Georgie," The voice was deep and low, but still gravelly.

The very same thoughts that he always had about the cellar, popped back into his head. Bill would take it, a small voice in his head told him, he's brave. Against his better judgment, Georgie crawled closed, reaching out for the boat. It would be just as easy as getting the gulf wax, he told himself.

The second his palm landed on the concrete, the second his fingers were within reach, the clown's eyes returned to a deep yellow. Georgie's hand was snatched, and the clown's head opened up, growing hundreds of sharp teeth and It chomped down on Georgie's arm, biting it clean off.

Georgie's terrified cries of pain echoed down the streets of Jackson and Witcham and yet the only being that heard his muffled cries of help was the neighbor's cat, still perched on the porch. Georgie did his best to crawl away from the storm drain, he wiggled himself along the street, blood pouring out of his shoulder where his right arm once was.

But it was no use. A long arm, slowly extending and protruding from the sewers came for him. Much like what he had always envisioned would happen when he used the cellar lightswitch. His small body was pulled into the storm drain, and Georgie Denbrough was no more.


	2. • Please Don't Go, Girl •

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: One use of the f slur by Henry. It is from the original script but I still wanted to update and the warning just in case. ♡

*[b/t] = body type*

\- June 1989 -

The final bell at Derry High School rang, doors flung open and a mix of disorderly students had spilled out into the halls like sheep. Books were being hurled into the trash, lockers emptied out, papers were strewn all over - summer had officially commenced. Swept up among the madness is Bill Denbrough, Richie Tozier, Stan Uris, and Eddie Kaspbrak.

Eddie was abnormally small for his age, his inhaler holstered in his medicine-filled fannypack. To his left, Stan, tall boy with curly blonde hair and wore a kippah. To the right of him was Bill, a young gangly boy with a stutter. And finally, Richie Tozier, who wore glasses and was notorious for being a trash mouth. He was Eddie's best friend.

In that same moment, one floor down, Y/n L/n flooded into the hallway with her classmates, exhaling in relief. She scanned the hallways and glazed over the many figures of the crowd hoping to catch sight of a familiar head of fiery red hair that belonged to her best friend. Beverly had excused herself near the end of class for a smoke in the girl's bathroom, naturally, that was where she was headed to find her friend.

Y/n weaved her way through the hallway stuffed with people, walking on her toes hoping to get a better look above the mass of heads. She passed through the stairway, cringing at the sudden influx in volume caused by the echo from the rowdy students in the stairway. That's when she spotted Greta Bowie.

Y/n cursed under her breath as she saw the 13-year-old bully heading for the top of the stairs. She got a bad feeling in her stomach and she immediately knew where Greta was headed.

Beverly and Y/n were the bully's favorite victims, particularly Bev. And Y/n had an inkling Greta was looking for her Beverly too.

Y/n sprinted up the steps after her, the swarm of students blocking her way. Up ahead, she saw Greta reach the landing of the second floor and she shoved herself past one of Richie Tozier's friends, who turned to glare at her.

At that moment, two rambunctious boys who were racing down the stairs, and much too absorbed in their interaction hadn't seemed to realize they were obstructing her path. And blocking Greta out in the process.

She huffed. "Do you mind- Hey!"

Rather than stop, the two boys blew past her on either side, their shoulders crashing into hers as they sneered. Her heart leaped into her throat as she felt herself lose balance. She lost her footing and was sent tumbling backward down a few stairs and onto the landing, a few students slowing her fall. Luckily, she hadn't made it far up the stairs. Had she, and Y/n would have left the school in a wheelchair, or worse.

"Fuck!"

Laughter erupted around her and she lay there, the wind knocked out of her. The two boys never even acknowledged the damage they had caused and they were well on their way to the exit of the school. Figures.

"Hey, are y-y-you, o-okay?" Y/n peered up and saw four boys hurrying down the steps towards her.

One of the boys, Richie Tozier, she recognized. At Derry High School, it was almost impossible not to know about the trash mouth, but she also had a handful of classes with him. They had even been partnered up once at the beginning of the year.

Y/n had a hard time figuring out what he actually sounded like that day, he kept switching between so many different accents.

"I'm fine," She sat up abruptly, wincing and hissed in pain, clutching her elbow.

"You sure?" Asked the curly-haired boy, who was peeking his slightly over his friends. "That was some fall you took."

"You know toots, when people come barreling towards me, I usually get out of the way, but you know, that's just me." Said Richie, readjusting his glasses.

Y/n rolled her eyes, huffing. "Ever learn how to shut up, Tozier?"

"Nah, still trying to crack that one."

Eddie, who had been unusually quiet, hesitantly brought his hand out to her to help her up. She took it gratefully, forcing a smile, still wincing from her fall. And Y/n muttered a thanks.

The poor hypochondriac boy realized what he had done and quickly reached into his fanny pack, grabbing his pocket-sized hand sanitizer. He squeezed a small amount into his palm and quickly rubbed it into his hands frantically, though a small blush resided on his cheeks.

Y/n would have taken slight offense to the kid's actions but she was far too distracted by the fact Greta had gotten away.

She was probably terrorizing Beverly right now, Y/n thought.

"Are you sure you're okay? That looked like a really bad fall." Stan asked.

Y/n forced another smile as she rotated her ankle wincing. "Yeah, I'm fine thanks. Look I rea-"

Eddie, whose voice finally caught up with his brain, began speaking rapidly, cutting her off unintentionally.

"You should take extra precaution with your ankle for a while. Did you know over one million stair related injuries occur every year, and people who have them, statistically speaking are more likely to experience another incident due to injury from the first fall?"

Y/n blinked a few times, still trying to catch up with his words. Richie and Stan smirked at one another and Bill looked between his friend and the baffled girl before him. Bill remembered how it was hearing Eddie speak for the first time. It took him a couple of weeks before he could hold a conversation with him without asking him to repeat himself.

"Uh, yeah, I think I heard that somewhere, thanks. I'll keep an eye on it. Uh, listen, thanks for the concern, and the help, but I really gotta go," Y/n said quickly, not as fast as, but close to, Eddie's speed.

The unexpected response triggered a few raised eyebrows among the three boys. And a small smile formed on Eddie's face, marveling at her.

Y/n nodded and gestured to the top of the stairs behind them.

"Excuse me," She said, pushing her way through between Eddie and Stan.

Eddie and the rest of the boys turned and watched as she squeezed through the flood of students like a fish swimming upstream. Eventually, they saw her [b/t] figure disappear into the crowd at the top of the stairs.

Without his eyes leaving the spot through which she disappeared, Eddie spoke up.

"Hey, Richie, who was that?"

Richie looked between his best friend and the stairs.

"Y/n L/n. Why? You want to get in her pants?" He chuckled.

Eddie's faced scrunched up and he shook his head 'no' feverishly, though it didn't stop Richie from noticing the pinkish hue creeping up on Eddie's cheeks and Richie suddenly regretted his joke.

"Aw, nothing to be ashamed of Eds. We're happy you're finally going after a woman that's not your mother!" Richie said, plastering on a smirk.

Eddie then launched into a lecture about the nickname and the four boys continued downstairs.

Meanwhile, at just past the top of the stairs Y/n approached the bathroom just as Greta and her posse were leaving. They were snickering and Greta met Y/n's eye and burst into laughter, her friends following suit.

"Oh, crap." Y/n took off into the bathroom.

"Beverly?"

Y/n didn't need to hear a response to figure out where her friend was. She winced when she saw the water pooling out from the far right stall. Mixed into it were various pieces of garbage that were floating amongst it.

"Beverly? It's me, come on open up," Y/n knocked softly on the stall, and she took a step back when it swung open.

There Beverly stood, her legs and the end of her dress soaked and dripping. Beverly looked at her best friend, a deadpan look on her face. She held her drenched backpack out away from herself, it swung slightly where the handle was hooked around her finger. There were wet napkins and paper towels that still clung to her backpack.

"Shit, I'm sorry. I tried going after her but, I... guess I fell short." Y/n chuckled weakly at her own joke, but quickly shook her head. "Never mind. Here, let's get you dried off."

×××

"Best feeling in the world,"

Stan emptied the contents of his backpack into the trashcan in the courtyard, his friends did the same.

Richie turned to his friend, putting his backpack back on.

"Yeah? Try tickling your pickle for the first time."

Eddie, who was used to ignoring the cheeky quips from Richie, turned to the others.

"Hey, what do you guys want to do tomorrow?"

Richie looked to Eddie, answering as if it was the most obvious thing in the universe.

"I start my training."

"Wait, what training?"

"Street Fighter."

"Is that how you wanna spend your summer? Inside of an arcade?"

Without missing a beat, Richie replied and shrugged.

"Beats spending it inside your mother," he turned to Stan, waiting for a high five.

Without a thought, Stan forced Richie's arm down, and the conversation continued.

"What if we go to the quarry?" He asked.

Bill leaned slightly on the trashcans as he replied.

"Guys, we have the b-b-ba-barrens,"

An awkward silence fell over them and Stan nodded in understanding. "Right."

At that moment, Eddie caught sight of a woman standing on the sidewalk, her eyes puffy from crying. They were accompanied by bags under them, and she waited with the police. She was scanning the entryway, hoping to find a familiar face.

Eddie nodded. "Betty Ripsom mom,"

The boys all turned to follow his eye.

"Is she really expecting to see her come out of that school?" Stan asked sadly.

"I don't know," Eddie muttered. "As if Betty Ripsom's been hiding in Home Ec. for the last few weeks."

"You think they'll actually find her?"

Richie answered immediately, with a light scoff.

"Sure. In a ditch. All decomposed, covered in worms and maggots, smelling like Eddie's mom's underwear."

Eddie cringed and began sputtering. "Shut up! That's fricking disgusting."

"S-she's not dead." Bill urged. "S-sh-she's just m-missing."

Richie adjusted his glasses nervously, and he felt a twinge of guilt knowing he hit a sore subject with his friend. Bill was still insistent that his own younger brother was still missing. After his little brother's disappearance months ago, still hoping he was out there somewhere.

"Sorry, Bill. She's missing."

Another silence fell over the four friends. They began walking away towards their bikes.

"You know, the Barrens aren't that bad," Richie began. "Who doesn't love splashing around in shitty water?"

Richie was stopped in his tracks, a hand had reached out and grabbed his backpack, and before he knew it he was thrown into Stan and the two boys fell in the grass.

Patrick Hockstetter kneeled over Stan. He wore a wicked grin and was waving his kippah in his face. "Nice frisbee, flamer."

Stan reached desperately for it, but Patrick kept it well out of his reach. "Give it back!"

He rose to his feet and tossed the kippah straight into an open window of a passing school bus. "Fucking losers!"

Eddie was too distracted to notice Belch Huggins creep up behind him. He burped into his face, causing him to gag profusely and Belch gave him a shove.

Henry Bowers, the leader of the little gang and the one who knocked over Stan and Richie, stormed passed the boys. Bill went red in the face with anger and he shouted after them.

"Y-y-you, s-s-s-suck, Bowers!"

"Shut up, Bill!" Richie warned.

But it was too late, Henry and his friends stopped in their tracks, turning around to face the stuttering boy.

"You suh-suh-suh-say something, buh-buh-buh-Billy?" He asked, feigning a stutter.

He stalked towards him, towering over him menacingly.

"You got a free ride this year 'cause of your little brother. Ride's over, Denbrough."

Henry caught the noise of indistinct radio chatter and he looked past Bill, at his father, the chief of police. The scruffy man took off his glasses and glared at his son. Henry tried to shake it off but he backed up slightly.

"This summer's gonna be a hurt train, for you and your faggot friends."

Henry licked his palm and wiped it across Bill's face. Patrick snickered and three bullies retreated the car, where their other friend Victor Criss was waiting.

Stan and Richie joined Bill and Eddie's side, glaring after the Bowers Gang.

"I wish he'd go missing," Richie muttered.

Eddie nodded. "He's probably the one doing it."

×××

Ben Hanscom grabs the handles of his bike with one hand and carefully moves it out of the rack. He was balancing a diorama of the Derry Standpipe in his other hand. He looked around the courtyard briefly, seeing the noiseless chatter of students around him as his music blasts in his ears. Completely unaware he and his bike were blocking the stairs.

A now somewhat dry Beverly Marsh stood on the stairs waiting to pass. Y/n, who had helped her dry off in the bathroom, had promptly realized she never had the chance to clean out her locker. The duo decided to meet each other at their shared apartment complex. To kick off the summer break, Beverly was going to stay at Y/n's apartment for the night, and get a much-deserved break from her father.

Beverly prickled at the small obstacle. She was impatient from the day's events and to get home and grab a change of clothes before her father got home from work. Eager to disappear to Y/n's next door. But the boy blocking the stairs didn't seem to know he was even doing it.

"You gonna let me go by?" Beverly asked, bringing him out of his stupor. "Or is there a secret password or something?"

Ben turned suddenly, and when he saw who it was before him, his stomach did flips and his heart was aflutter. He harbored a crush for the girl, ever since he first laid eyes on her in class. She never failed to make him blush, just with a simple look.

"Oh," he turned his head down to the ground quickly to hide his scarlet face. "Um, sorry,"

"Sorry's not," She trailed off when the diorama he had been holding fell to the ground, and he scrambled to pick it up. "password."

Just as he had picked up his diorama, his bike fell to the ground. She felt a wave of guilt for being snarky, he was clearly sorry and at this point she knew, he had enough on his plate. Someone they both had to worry about. Henry Bowers.

"Henry and his goons are over by the west entrance, so you should be fine," she eased, and Ben looked at her taken aback.

"Oh, I wasn't--"

"Everyone knows he's looking for you," she nodded.

Ben sighed and shied away. She smiled and took a few steps forward, grabbing the headphones off his head.

"What you listening to?"

Ben was in shock, but he stood still waiting for the inevitable teasing she would bring. But instead she smiled brightly, making his heart pound faster and he could feel his face grow hotter.

"New Kids on The Block," She took the headphones back off.

"I don't even like them. I was just--"

"Wait. You're the new kid, right? Now I get it."

His heart sunk.

"There's nothing to get."

"I'm just messing with you," she assured.

She placed the headphones on top of his head, and he promptly grabbed them, wrapping them around his head as best he could with one hand.

"I'm Beverly Marsh"

"Yeah. I know that 'cause we're in the same class. Social Studies. And you were..." he trailed off, and shook his head slightly. "I'm Ben. But pretty much everybody just calls me..."

"The new kid," Beverly finished, nodded in understanding. "Well, Ben, there are worse things to be called. Let me sign this."

She stepped forward, grabbing the yearbook she had spotted sticking out of his backpack. Bev eagerly opened it up to the front and her face fell seeing nothing but blank pages save for the word typed in black ink, 'Autographs'. Grabbing the pen from her belt, she bit the cap and held it between her teeth as she signed her name, unknowingly being watched in admiration by Ben. His eyes just poking up from the book.

She recapped the pen and handed the yearbook back to Ben. "Stay cool, Ben from sosh class."

"Uh, yeah," He turned to watch her leave, smiling brightly after her. "You too, Beverly."

As he watched her walk away, she called without turning her head, acknowledging his response. "Hang tough, new kid on the block."

Ben smirked at her clever reference to the boy bands' song, and a big stupid grin formed on his face. He chuckled, shaking his head softly, not believing his luck and her kindness.

He called back out to her, moments too late. "Please Don't Go, Girl. That's the name of another New Kids on the Block song,"

His words trailed off, knowing he had been too late. Hopefully, she hadn't heard it, he thought. And it seemed she hadn't. He shook his head, ashamed but relieved she hadn't heard it. Nevertheless, he had a new firm hand on his bike and diorama, determined not to drop them again and he walked his bike to the entrance, his headphones trailing behind him and his heart still aflutter.

Who cares that no one else signed my yearbook, he thought. When the only person he actually wanted to, did.


	3. • Thriller  •

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A/n: I apologize for the possible spelling errors from the Torah scene. They didn't have it in the subtitles so I borrowed from the original script for authenticity, so I apologize for any incorrect information or spelling. Reader's scene is inspired by a scene from the conjuring cause I am unoriginal af and I am a fool for making myself do this since I hated that movie and how it stressed and scared it made me but hey it was writing inspiration so yeah. Anyways, spooky chapter ahead :( Eddie + reader content coming

"He thrusts his fists against the p-posts,"

Anyone who knew Bill well knew of his pride in his bike, Silver. Countless times had he been found barreling down the streets on his pride and joy at impossible speeds, crying out in joy.

"Hi-yo Silver, away!"

Now was not one of those times. Currently, Bill was descending Jackson St. wheeling Silver alongside him as he practiced the tongue twister his mother taught him, as an exercise for his stuttering. He was never quite able to make it all the way through, but that never stopped him from trying.

"The thrusts his fist against the p-po-" He shook his head angrily, licking his lips. "Shit!"

At that moment, he had reached the familiar scene of his driveway. One of the garage doors, he noticed, was open. His dad must be woodworking, he presumed. Sure enough, when he parked his bike in the usual spot, his dad was waiting for him. He took his eye goggles off and turned around, facing away from his current woodworking project.

"Need some help?" He offered, walking into the garage. "I-I-"

"I thought we agreed." His father sighed.

Bill's stomach dropped. He looked to his makeshift model of the sewer system he had created. It was made from borrowed parts of his hamster's tunnels, with two accompanying bins representing different areas of the town.

"Before you say anything-"

"Bill,"

"Just let me show you something first." He insisted, walking towards the model. 

He eagerly picked up the little green toy soldier, dropping it into the tube labeled Witcham. He grabbed the hose that was still in place from his last attempt and stuck it in the tube, turning it on. The little army man clinked and thunked down the tubes, finally popping out into the other end and into the bin labeled THE BARRENS.

His father watched unimpressed.

"The Barrens," Bill urged. "I-I-It's the only place th-that Georgie could have ended up."

"He's gone, Bill."

"But if the storm swept Ge-Georgie in, we should have gone--"

His father snapped, standing to his feet suddenly and his voice grew in volume.

"He's gone! He's dead!"

Bill swallowed the lump forming in his throat, and failed to meet his father's eye as he was scolded.

"He's dead! There is nothing we can do! Nothing!"

Bill was feeling his hope and happiness being torn down all over again, and his father's voice lowered into a spiteful venom.

"Now take this down before your mother sees it," He walks over to the blueprints of Derry tacked to the wall, and angrily takes it down. "Next time you want to take something from my office..."

He fitfully folds the poster, refusing to look his son in the eye, and storms out of the garage.

"ask."

Bill looked sadly at his hamster, who was climbing the walls of the cage.

"Guess you get your t-tunnels back,"

×××

Mike Hanlon speeds down the road on his bike and into the edge of town. He was making his usual delivery to the butcher, one of his many jobs on his grandparents' farm. It was a warm evening, which made for a nice trip into town. He sped along the main streets, making his way through the familiar turns to the butcher.

He reached the butcher's and he dismounted his bike, ready to unload the packages of meat for his delivery. That was until he heard the hoots and hollers of the familiar Bowers gang cruising down the street.

His nerves spiked and Mike sprang into action, quickly grabbing his bike and running him and the bike into the safety of the alley. Bowers always had a knack for finding Mike on his trips through town, and every time he would terrorize the poor boy, spitting racial slurs at him, or worse. Sometimes he would have to come home to his grandparents with injuries he would have to explain. Bowers was as bad as they come and his grandfather was right about people like him.

As he hid himself and his bike behind a junk pile in the alley, watching the car cruise by slowly on the street, he was brought back to the conversation he and his grandfather had had.

"There are two places you can be in this world," He said. "You can be out here like us, or you can be in there, like them,"

He was pointing to the pen stocked with sheep, and Mike felt queasy from the fate of the animals, but knowing truth rang in his grandfather's words.

"You waste time hemming and hawing, and someone else is gonna make that choice for you. Except you won't know it until you feel that bolt between your eyes."

Mike saw the blue Trans Am pass the outer street and he exhales in relief.

"Oh, Jesus."

Still panting heavily, trying to calm his racing heart, he walks his bike to the end of the alley. He leans his bike against a nearby dumpster, back facing the door of the butcher's, and begins unloading packages of meat.

He hears a soft growl accompanied the rattling of chains behind him. Quickly, he turns to face the door, curious. He sees the old dirty - or was it singed? - door attempting to swing open. It only opens a crack, the chains on the handle preventing it from opening. And did Mike smell smoke?

Nevertheless, his eyes never left the door, and his breathing never slowed. He was appalled and horrified to suddenly hear the voice of his mother, or at least who he thought sounded like his mother.

"Mike!" She screamed.

Mike flinched, his heart pounding horribly fast. It ached to see the familiar scene before him, just as vivid as he had remembered. Charred hands slipped out from behind the door, clawing at the pavement desperately.

"Hurry, son!" His father.

"Help! It burns!"

Still frozen in terror, Mike steps forward hesitantly, ready to reach the door. Hands are still clawing at the brick wall, scratching the charred door.

Smoke unfurled from the cracks of the door, the hands retreated. Mike took a step back and the door swung open suddenly. He could hear the rattling of chains once more, and the boy frowned at what he saw. Behind the door was a dark room, the only source of light came from behind the freezer strips to the meat cooler. He could see the outlines of the meat hangers and the many figures of the deceased animals.

Mike heard the bleating of sheep and metal clanging. Suddenly, a figure hanging in the freezer moved, looking up at him. It was a long lanky figure, everything but it's head limp. It was a distorted figure of a man. He could have sworn it looked almost like a clown.

The figure twirled around on the chains it hung from. It was now facing Mike, who watched frozen in fear, shaking violently. It stared at Mike, two glowing yellow lights emitted from where its eyes should be. It waved its long slender arm, it's movements stiff and forced, like a marionette puppet.

The loud and sudden revving of an engine brought Mike out of his daze. Mike jumped frantically, barely missing the Trans Am by inches. Unable to catch his footing, he landed on a pile of cardboard near the dumpster. The car came to a sudden stop, rock music blaring from the radio. In the front seat was Belch Huggins, and a livid Henry Bowers stood on the passenger's seat and popping out of the open sunroof.

"Stay the fuck outta my town!" He roared, veins bulging from his forehead neck, spit flying.

He flicked his cigarette at Mike who flinched, and the car roared to life and sped away. Mike stayed on the ground, still panting heavily from the intense encounters. 

"Mike?"

He looked up to the open door, the familiar face of the butcher stepping through the side of the building where the clown once was. He was cleaning his knife, blood stained his apron. He looked at Mike in concern.

"Are you okay?"

×××

Inside the Derry Synagogue, Stan Uris reads from the Torah, rehearsing. His father, the rabbi, is pacing above him, waiting for a screw up.

"Baruk atah Adonai, eloheynu meleek,"

"Melehk. Start again"

"Baruk atah Adonai, eloheynu malehk... malehk... "

"Ha'olam..."

"Ha'olam, Asher bahkar Mikal..."

"Banu Mikal! You're not studying Stanley. How's it gonna look? The rabbi's son can't finish his own Torah reading. Take the book to my office. Obviously, you're not using it" he spits.

Stanley closed the book, sighing. He timidly made his way to his father's office and opened the door. With the book clutched to his side, he brought his other hand up to the side of his face, blinding himself from the painting that always made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.

And yet Stan was still able to see the crooked frame on the wall, just as crooked as the woman in the painting itself. Everything about the woman in the painting made him uneasy. Her unnatural elongated neck, and her claw-like fingers that wrapped around the flute. Her eyes were uneven and they were a blank milky white.

It's silly, Stan told himself, it's just a painting. Just a stupid painting. He stepped forward, trying to calm his racing heart. He exhaled, placing the book under his arm and straightened the painting. See? Nothing bad happened.

He gladly walked away to the bookshelf at the end of the room, though he couldn't shake the adrenaline that had accumulated in his system. He placed the book on the shelf, and-

SMACK!

Stan could hear his blood pumping in his ears and he slowly turned around. The painting face down on the floor. The lights flickered with an obnoxious buzz, matching the rapid beat of his heart. Stan gulped, picking up the large frame and hung it carefully back in place on the wall. He stared at the painting, his heart in his throat and his stomach churned.

He took a few frightened steps back, panting heavily as he tried to comprehend the now blank painting before him. The woman was gone.

His breathing picked up, he couldn't believe his eyes. Stan whirled around when he heard the office door creak open. But it had stopped moving. Suddenly, Stan felt as if he was being watched.

Stan felt chills run down his spine and his skin pricked. It's too quiet, he thought. Right on cue, something dropped to the ground suddenly, and a dark looming figure unknowingly behind him. A figure with a long unnatural elongated neck, and long talon-like fingers. His lungs constricted, he gasped for breath that struggled to enter his lungs, he shakily turned around.

Out of the shadows came the woman, towering over him, smiling an unnaturally large smile, showing rows of several sharp teeth. A shaky scream erupted from Stan's throat and he fled, slamming the door to the office and never looked back.

×××

Night had fallen and Beverly and Y/n lay passed out next to one another in front of the Y/n's television set. They were both snuggled up under a shared blanket in the middle of Y/n's living room. The room was silent, apart from the soft and muffled voices coming from the TV. The alternating hues and shades casting from the TV and onto the sleeping form of the girls was the only source of light.

Laughter from the on-screen audiences echoed in the otherwise silent living room, and Y/n stirred awake. She didn't have to open her eyes to know the TV screen was bright. Soft hues were peeking through her eyelids and she sighed quietly, knowing she had to get up from her spot and turn it off. She sat up slowly, cautious not to move too much and wake Beverly.

She gently pulled the blanket off her form and it wasn't until her legs were exposed had she realized how hot she had become. Her apartment didn't have the best air conditioning, and summer nights like these made getting comfortable no easy feat. She tiptoed across the room and bent down to switch off the TV. The room was now eerily silent, and she could hear a slight ringing in her ears. She froze when she heard a soft rustling come from Beverly, who stirred in her sleep.

A brief moment passed as Y/n prayed silently that she hadn't woken Bev up. When nothing happened, she visibly relaxed. Her eyes were still very much heavy from sleep, she trudged back to her spot on the floor, and laid down underneath the blankets.

She breathed contently at the feeling of her chilled pillow as it met her heated cheeks. Her feet wiggled their way out from under the blanket subconsciously for air, the thin blanket clinging to her sweaty legs. She mentally thanked her past self for opting for her shorts over her long pajama pants. She nuzzled her head gently into the plump cushion and felt sleep blanket her conscious.

Y/n was eased in and out of sleep like the tide wading up the sand before slinking back out. She was unaware of how much time had passed, but at one point she became aware of Beverly kicking her leg. She frowned, ignoring it, figuring she had done it accidentally.

She felt the groggy fog of sleep wash over her brain once more. Until she felt a tug on her exposed foot. She frowned, moving her leg away, growing cranky.

Y/n groaned in protest, a pouty look contorting her face, her eyes still glued shut.

Another tug.

"Knock it off, Bev," she whined into her pillow.

Another tug.

"Jesus, Bev, I mean it! I'm trying to sleep" she groaned louder.

No reply. That's when Y/n realized there hadn't been any reply from Beverly the first two times. Not even a breathy chuckle or any sign that Bev had acknowledged her. Or even heard her. She opened her eyes slowly. Soft white slats of light that were creeping through the window was the only source of light.

Beverly was right next to her, under the blanket, her back to Y/n. And snoring. She was fast asleep. She couldn't have done it. She frowned and propped herself up slightly to get a better look at Bev and she stared in confusion. She looked around the room, but she saw nothing unusual. Her eyes landed on Beverly again, her racking her brain for any possible solution.

The next thing she knew, she was flung back as she was pulled violently forward across the carpet. Her head smacked into the floor rather harshly, and she temporarily lost her senses. She felt her stomach plummet and she gasped when she made herself peer up. Standing there, towering over her was an impossibly tall, slender figure with disheveled tufts of red hair poking out on all sides and a ghostly white face. Its large bulbous head was cracked and dry, like chipped paint and it was smiling down at her hungrily. It was a clown.

She would have screamed but nothing came, she had no voice. She trembled violently in terror and she felt hot tears stream down her cheeks, she was begging her limbs to move but they all failed her. His arms were impossibly long, and they were twig thin. No thicker than a paper towel roll and they stretched down all the way to her leg, and he hardly had to bend down to reach. Her left ankle was captured in his thin gloved hand.

The clown smiled, forming an anatomically impossible U shape, showing rows upon rows of teeth. Its eyes were completely black, save for two glowing yellow irises in the center. Y/n felt her leg grow damp and she realized he-it- whatever the hell this thing was, was now drooling on her, it's fingers still coiled around her leg.

Y/n hadn't realized she was in pain until she heard herself whimper. Long sharp claws that ripped through his white gloves were now hooked into her ankle tearing her skin to shreds as he pulled. She realized she was slowly being pulled towards the clown inch by terrifying inch. Y/n flinched when she heard a scream until she realized it had been her own. 

Beverly jumped awake in a frightened panic, looked everywhere around the room, but she found nothing but her traumatized friend.

She saw her friend sitting up straight, slightly farther down from her pillow, shaking violently. Her mouth was open, and her eyes were wide and bloodshot, silent sobs shook her body and her gaze was focused a million miles away.

"Jesus Y/n, what happened?" She brought herself forward and wrapped her arms around the girl.

"C-Clo-" But she was never able to finish her sentence.

She collapsed into sobs, still shaking with fear. Beverly's heart broke as she cradled her. She gently swayed her, rubbing her hand up and down Y/n's arms soothingly.

Beverly felt her shoulder grow damp from Y/n's tears but she didn't care. She just continued to try and soothe her best friend. Y/n flinched at just about every move Bev made, and her heart broke more, understanding more than anyone, and Bev tried not to move too much.

Beverly sat comforting her friend for the better half of an hour. Finally, her sobs had died down, but her eyes were still wide, still very much alert form the horrifying encounter. She sniffled, nuzzled into her friend's arms, and occasionally Bev's long red hair tickled her nose and she'd sniffle.

Beverly finally spoke up in a gentle whisper. "Do you want to talk about it?"

She felt Y/n shake her head no, and she felt her shoulder grow damp once more.

Finally, Y/n spoke, her voice came out in a harsh whisper, it cracked ever so slightly. Either her screaming or lack of words or some combination of the two had taken a toll on her voice.

"Y-you wouldn't believe me,"

"Of course I would, Y/n." She assured.

It was quiet again, and tears silently streamed down her cheeks.

"I can't..."

Bev sighed, hugging her Y/n tighter if that was even possible.

"It's okay. I'm not gonna force you. Here," she gently pulled herself away to look her friend in the eye. "Why don't we turn on the lights and grab some midnight snacks from the kitchen and just talk, okay? I have a feeling you're not going to want to go back to sleep. Am I wrong?"

Y/n shook her head no, and Bev smiled. "Okay, sounds like a plan."

Bev rose to her feet and walked over beside the couch to the lamp on the side table and switched it on. Soft yellow light lit up the room. Both girls squinted from the bright light, both of them having gotten used to the dark. And Beverly tiptoed to the cent of the room.

"Must have been some nightmare, huh?"

Y/n went pale, her eyes fixed on something. She had tried to tell herself that everything she just saw was a figment of her imagination. She would have loved nothing more than that horror show to be just a twisted nightmare. And as Beverly had soothed her, calmed her and comforted her, she had almost begun to believe it. That was until she shifted her foot slightly and felt pain flare up on her ankle.

Beverly was unaware of her friend's rising panic. Her back to her friend as she rose slightly on her tiptoes to reach the dangling metal chain for the fanlight on the ceiling.

"Now, let's get some comfort food in you. I myself am craving some..." she trailed off, her eyes bulging out when she saw Y/n.

In the dark, neither of them had seen it. And Y/n had still been in such a state of shock, she forgot all about the pain.

Y/n's sad and panicked eyes were fixed on her ankle. Another defeated whimper escaped her throat as she stared at the three long and deep gashes that trailed down her left leg, blood staining her [s/c] and the carpet beneath her.


	4. • The Right Stuff •

"Take everything but the Delicious Deals, guys," Eddie instructed. "My mom loves them.

Richie was rifling through Eddie's kitchen cabinet, Bill and Richie had stopped by Eddie's house before their trip to the barrens. They figured they should grab some snacks beforehand.

Eddie watches, leaning against the kitchen counter.

"Hey! First, you said the Barrens, now you're saying the sewer." He said. "I mean, what if we get caught?"

"We won't, Eds," Bill assured. "The sewers are p-p-public works. We're the public aren't we?"

"Hey, Eddie?" Richie stood at the other end of the kitchen, a cabinet full of pills open. "these your birth control pills?"

"Yeah, and I'm saving it for your sister. This is private stuff." Eddie retorted.

The boys closed all the cabinets and exited the kitchen. The TV from the front room was playing softly, Mrs. Kaspbrak was seated in her living room, watching.

"Hello, and welcome to the Derry Children's Hour."

"Eddie Bear," the boys stopped, looking at Mrs. Kaspbrak. "where you boys off to in such a rush?"

"Umm..." Bill spoke up, already feeling the effects of his stutter. "J-j-just my uh, backyard, Mrs. K. I g-got a new..."

"A new croquet set," Richie jumped in. "Jeez, spit it out, Buh-Buh-Bill"

"Okay," she eased, her eyes drilling into the boys. "Oh, and sweetie, don't go rolling around on the grass. Especially if it's just been cut. You know how bad you're allergies can get."

"Yes, mom. Let's go." Eddie mumbled, and he began herding his friends out of the door.

"Aren't you forgetting something?"

Eddie froze, and his friends hesitated. Shamefully, he turned and walked into the living room towards his mother who held out her cheek. Eddie planted a quick kiss and returned to the front door. He could see Richie and Bill stifling laughter.

"Do you want one from me too, Mrs. K?" Richie felt a harsh shove towards the door, and he chuckled. "I was kidding!"

The boys, now joined by Stan, zipped through the streets of Derry, wind in their hair. As they barrelled through the town, the Derry Public Library cropped up into view.

Inside, sat at one of the tables and thoughtfully scribbling on a postcard was Ben Hanscom. He had been mulling over the poem, trying to find the perfect words he could use that could possibly capture what he felt in his heart. Finally, when he had finished, he read the final draft in a hushed whisper.

"You're hair is winter fire, January embers... My heart burns there too."

His attention was brought to the windows when he heard muffled shouts outside.

"Slow down!" Said one voice.

"Hi-ho, Silver! Away!" Cried another.

He spotted four bikes cruising down the street, just in front of the library. The first voice cried out again.

"Your old lady bike's too fast for us!"

The abrupt smack of the book as it hit the table echoed across the quiet library, his attention on the snippy librarian. Her glasses sat perched on the edge of her nose and she was staring judgmentally at Ben.

"Found it." Her eyes squinted. "Isn't it summer vacation? I would think you'd be ready to take a break from the books."

Ben who was fiddled nervously with his fingers, shrugged. "I like it here."

She blinked at his response and looked down at him distastefully. "A boy should be spending his summer outside with friends. Don't you have any friends."

Ben looked away, before speaking, avoiding all eye contact with the stingy woman.

"Can I have the book now?"

She gave the book a quick pat and left promptly. Ben breathed a sigh in relief and grabbed the History of Old Derry, opening it up.

He was constantly intrigued by his new town, and every time he could dig deeper into its history, he felt a little piece of the puzzle fall into place.

He flipped through the pages, eyes trained on the different pictures, scanning the captions but nothing, in particular, caught his eye. That is until he reached one photo in particular. It was a rather tall building, flooded with people of all ages, mostly children. What caught his eye was an old circus caravan.

It featured a picture of a clown. Some of it was cut off, but he could make out some of it. "Penny-" the rest was covered, and below it, he had gotten enough context to know it read "Dancing Clown."

Below the picture, the caption read "Easter Egg Hunt celebration at the Derry Iron Work, April 3rd, 1908" Unbeknownst to Ben, a woman at the back of the library, turned to watch him. Eyes fixed completely on Ben, an eerie smile on her face.

Ben continued to flip through the book, fascinated. Another photo, this one of several kids, all holding their baskets of eggs. He turned the page, and featured on the next page was a photocopy of a newspaper, the Derry Herald. It read, "EASTER EXPLOSION KILLS 88 CHILDREN, 102 TOTAL"

He scanned the page briefly, his eyes lingering on the photo featured in the newspaper. Ben felt a chill run down his spine, still oblivious to the woman staring at him in the library. As he advanced further in the book, it only grew darker. Bodies were strewn all over the grass in the photo, captioned, "Bodies of those killed in Derry Iron Works Explosion, 1908"

Another page. This photo depicted a small crowd of people gathered around an old tree. "A gruesome discovery in the wake of the Derry Iron Works explosion, 1908". Ben could not see the gruesome discovery he read about, and he was thankful. He turned the page again. Peculiar.

A slightly zoomed-in version of the previous photo. He turned the page. The same photo, only closer. Another page. Another photo of the branches. Frantically, Ben continued to flip through the pages, heart thumping. Sure enough, like a slow-motion animation, it closed in on the branches of the tree. Closer and closer and closer and-

A head. A boy's head. An impossibly crystal clear photo of a boy's severed head is caught in the branches. Ben felt his stomach lurch and he slammed the book shut, panting heavily. What the hell had he just seen?

His eyes trailed from the cover of A History of old Derry to a recent headline of the newspaper. "Body found by canal not Betty Ripsom" What the hell was wrong with this town? Ben stiffed when he heard a soft giggle, the slow tune of an old music box began to play. Slowly he turned.

Across the library, a bright red balloon was floating across the library, disappearing through a doorway. He rose to his feet and peered out the doorway, anxiety settling in his stomach. Perched on the steps was a smoking easter egg, charred and burned. For an unknown reason, Ben let his legs carry him down the hall, where he found another singed egg. And another. And another.

He now found himself in the library's basement, where everything was stored in a maze of shelves. He picked up the egg, despite its charred exterior, it wasn't hot. He could have sworn he heard shuffling down the hallway of shelves and he crept forward. Was the librarian down here, he wondered. She couldn't be, the lights were off. Right on cue, the lights flickered on and off, a sickening pale green.

The lights flickered long enough for Ben to see a figure dart between the shelves. The room went dark once more and Ben beard a clatter from behind him. He turned around, and at the top of the stairs was the figure of a boy, maybe his age. It was hard to tell. Regardless, Ben watched cautiously as the figure took a few stiffened steps down the stairs one see step at a time. He froze, and Ben watched anxiously, his heart pounding. The figure took another step down, revealing to Ben that he had no head.

Smoke wafted from his neck and while he had no head, Ben knew somehow it was looking right at him. He had been holding several eggs to his chest, which he now dropped. The eggs hit the ground, splattering everywhere. The figure of the headless boy trudged down the stairs and froze briefly. And then it took off after Ben.

Ben sped down into the small maze of shelves, he could barely hear his own footsteps, let alone the footsteps of the figure over his pounding heart and heavy breathing. He cast a glance over his shoulder to see the figure running stiffly but swiftly after him. He made so many turns he lost count of where he was, much too frightened to paying attention to where he was going. He found that he couldn't tear his eyes away from the figure chasing him, too afraid if he didn't look he would sneak up and grab him. He looked forward just in time to turn the corner.

A taunting gravelly voice grabbed his attention, and he quickly glanced a final glance behind him to see a giant bulbous clown head on top of the boy's once headless figure was right in front of him.

"Egg boy!" It said.

He felt himself collide with a figure and he stumbled back frightened. The figure he crashed into let out a startled gasp and dropped several books. It was the librarian.

She looked Ben up and down sharply. "What on earth are you doing?"

Ben spared a frightful look down the hallway of shelves, relieved to find nothing there. Still panting, in fear or exhaustion or possibly both, he had no idea. He looked the librarian in the eye once more and fled up the stairs, grateful to be caught where he shouldn't have been.

After gathering his things, and his composure, Ben exited the library. He trudged across the grass, passing the stone monument, unaware of the spiteful mulleted teenager that had been waiting for him.

"Where you off to, tits?"

Ben took one look at Henry Bowers and fled. Unfortunately, he hadn't made it far before one of his goons had been waiting for him and snatched him up.

"Gotcha."

The Bowers gang had dragged a fighting Ben Hanscom several blocks to Derry's infamous Kissing Bridge.

"Wait!"

"Fucking hold him!"

"Leave me alone!"

"Smack him."

"Don't let tubby get away."

"Help!"

Laughter erupted from the vicious group of boys. Patrick Hockstetter had a hold on Ben, one of them had pulled Ben's shirt up over his head, disorienting him. A cackling Victor Criss slapped Ben's stomach teasingly and each of them got a shot at kicking, poking and shoving, in ignoring the boy's cries of protest.

Ben felt himself get pinned against the side of the bridge. "Just leave me alone."

"Look at all this blubber!" Exclaimed Belch, who ripped his shirt back down.

Ben looked around in fear, struggling against his attackers. The rattling of a can came from Patrick, who eagerly shook the can of hairspray as he stood in front of Ben.

"Let me light his hair, like Michael Jackson," he said eagerly, flicking open his lighter and created a small bellow of flames.

"Just hold him," Growled Henry, pushing him out of the way and Ben roughly by the collar.

"Get off me! Get off me!" Ben stopped shouting when he heard the low rumble of a car.

Everyone else quieted as well, watching a car slowly cruised by, the window rolled down. The gang expected to be stopped, but the car kept going. The couple inside contributed nothing but a passing glance, and Ben cried out for help.

The only kind of response he received, was the abrupt and unexpected form of a bright red balloon popping up in the window of the back seat.

Henry landed a right hook in Ben's jaw and another. Ben felt his sense getting knocked loose and he grew dizzy, his ears ringing. Henry grabbed him by the head, shaking it vigorously as he yelled in anger and madness. His hearing came back in time to hear Henry seething threats.

"Okay, new kid. This is what us locals call the Kissing Bridge. It's famous for two things. Sucking face," he held up his pocket knife and suddenly unsheathed it. "and carving names"

Nausea washed over Ben and winced, shaking his head desperately.

"Henry, please," he pleaded, shaking his head no. 

Ben roared in agony, searing pain erupted ok stomach as Henry forcefully carved a large H on his stomach. Patrick cackled madly and Victor said nothing. Belch was the only one who became uneasy.

"Woah, woah! Henry!"

"Shut up!" He bellowed, spit flying from his mouth. "I'm gonna carve my whole name onto this cottage cheese!"

In one swift movement, Ben brought his leg up to Henry, kicking himself off and he tumbled over the side of the bridge. Grunting, he tumbled down the harsh slope, being poked and stabbed by various twigs but none of it came close to the pain of the mark Henry had left. 

He could hear the angry cries of Henry, who was peering over the bridge. "I'm gonna cut your fucking tits off. I swear to God!"

He launched himself over the bridge and all his friends joined him. Ben jumped to his feet when he heard the rustling of the leaves up the hill he had just fallen. He turned on his heel, and sprinted into the trees, trying desperately to ignore the searing pain in his stomach every time he moved. Ben made several twists and turns through the trees, never allowing himself to stop.

Meanwhile, Henry and his friends had reached the end of the hill, and Henry began sifting through the dirt and leaves frantically. "My knife. My old man will kill me!"

Belch and Patrick watched, not knowing what to do. Henry looked at him expectantly.

"You two get him!" They fled into the woods after Ben and Henry turned to Victor. "Move your fucking ass!"

Ben could hear the approaching footsteps and voices behind him as he reached a fork in the path. He went down the left which lead him to the edge of the ferns at the edge of a creek. Patrick and Belch reached the same fork and they stopped. Patrick gestured for Belch to take the right while Patrick took the left. 

Ben felt his socks dampen, as ran along the creek leaving the Bowers gang far behind him.

×××

"You holding up okay?" 

Beverly had returned to the living room, now fully dressed in a maroon tank top and denim shorts, her usual key around her neck and her long red hair hung at the side of her shoulders in a ponytail. The two girls had scraped together as many ointments and bandages for Y/n's leg.

Though they hadn't had much luck. They couldn't find a single thread of gauze and only half a foot of ace bandages. So Beverly did her best to clean the wound with a wet paper towel and applied some ointment. She found a spare white cotton cloth in the linen closet and wrapped it firmly around Y/n's leg to stop the bleeding.

Once Y/n's leg had been taken care of, they got to work cleaning the carpet as best as they could. Beverly took most of the trips back and forth to the kitchen given Y/n was still much too sore. When the carpet had been scrubbed within an inch of its life, the girls finally retreated to the couch and talked into the sun came up. They talked about anything and everything - aside from what Y/n had seen, still much too frightened to speak of it.

Beverly stood at the edge of Y/n's living room, now fully dressed, looking at Y/n, trying to gauge her mood. She had not moved from her spot on the couch and she looked as if she was lost in thought, her eyes fixed on the barely visible pink stain on the carpet.

"Y/n?"

Snapping out of her daze, she looked to Beverly, still in a bit of a daze. "Hm?"

"Are you alright to get dressed, or," she trailed off, not wanting to offend her friend but still offering her assistance.

"Oh, yeah, I'm good. Thanks,"

She pushed herself off the couch and limped lightly into the hall, passing Beverly and retreated into her room to get dressed. She winced at the pain that seared in her leg but she relaxed gradually. She was growing used to it. 

Biting her lip and hissing slightly, she tried her best to step into her pair of overall shorts. She had almost gotten her leg in when she began to tip over. Thankfully she had landed on her bed, she used the advantage to slip easily in her shorts and sighed in relief, the hard part over.

Satisfied with her handiwork, Y/n grabbed her lowest pair of socks and shoes and joined Beverly back in the living room. Beverly had prepared breakfast for the two of them, a bowl of cereal for her and a [y/f/b] for Y/n.

Beverly smiled warmly, welcoming her back, but her eyes fell to Y/n's ankle and she winced.

"We really need to get you some proper bandages," She eased. 

Y/n looked down at her leg to see the once white cloth was stained a deep crimson color and she sighed, looking back at Bev who offered a weak smile.

A yawn escaped her lips and Y/n felt a twinge of guilt for keeping her friend up all night. Beverly recognized the look on her face and she smiled.

"Don't worry, Y/n it's fine. Let's just have our breakfast and then we'll get you some proper supplies at the pharmacy. I was planning on making a trip there today anyway. You can come with me,"

×××

Stan, Richie, Eddie, and Bill were treading the edge of the water, Bill in the lead towards the sewers. Stan was gesturing all around him, a sure frown on his face.

"That's poison ivy. And that's poison ivy. And that's poison ivy."

"Where?" Eddie looked around, watching his step. "Where's the poison ivy?"

"Nowhere," Richie remarked. "Not every fucking plant is poison ivy, Stanley."

Bill and Richie stepped into the large cement mouth of the sewer tunnels, Eddie and Stan refusing to cross the threshold. Eddie was shifting on his feet, growing antsy.

"Okay, I'm starting to get itchy now, and - and I'm pretty sure this is not good for my--"

"Do you use the same bathroom as your mother?" Richie quipped, cutting Eddie off.

"Sometimes, yeah."

"Then you probably have crabs."

"That's so not funny."

The flashlights crawled along the walls of the slimy sewer tunnel and Richie turned around to face his two hesitant friends.

"Aren't you guys coming in?"

Eddie took one look at the murky water and shook his firmly. "Uh-uh. It's greywater."

"What the hell's greywater?"

"It's basically piss and shit. So I'm just telling you, you guys are splashing around in millions of gallons of Derry pee. So..."

The stick Richie had been carrying was swirled around the water before he brought it up to his face. He took a big whiff and Eddie used all his strength not to gag.

"Are you series? What are you-?"

"Doesn't smell like caca to me señor!" Richie retorted in an accent.

"Okay, I can smell that from here."

Richie smiled a toothy grin. "It's probably just your breath wafting back into your face."

Eddie scoffed heavily, shaking his head in disbelief and he tried desperately to contain his frustration. "Have you ever heard of a staph infection?"

Amused as ever, Richie grinned, waving the stick towards his friend. "Oh, I'll show you a staph infection."

"This is so unsanitary. You're literally-"

The continued to bicker further and Stan rolled his eyes, already fed up with them.

"This is literally like swimming inside of a toilet bowl right now,"

Still grinning, Richie picked something up from the water with his stick and waved it around.

"Have you ever heard of Listeria? AHH" Eddie screamed in terror and jumped back slightly when Richie launched the sopping wet piece of garbage at Eddie.

He snickered at the boy's reaction, and Eddie launched into another lecture. Bill, who was the deepest in the tunnels, had found a shoe floating in the water. 

"Guys!"

The boys stopped bickering and looked to their friend. He was holding the shoe illuminating the dripping shoe with his flashlight.

Stan grew grave, and his voice broke as he spoke. "Shit. Don't tell me that's..."

"No. G-Georgie wore galoshes."

Richie had joined Bill's side and he peered inside the shoe.

"Who's sneaker is it?" Eddie asked.

Richie turned, and looked back at his friend, trying to hide his shock. "It's Betty Ripsom's,"

An uneasy and solemn silence fell over them. All sense of mischief and jokes forgotten. Eddie let out a shaky breath.

"Oh, shit. Oh, God. Oh, fuck!" Stan watched quietly, silently shutting down and Eddie was still trying to cope with the discovery. "I don't like this."

Richie, who always reverted to humor as his coping mechanism, did just that.

"How do you think Betty feels?" He stood on one foot and hopped a couple of times. "Running around these tunnels with only one frickin' shoe?"

Richie stopped when he saw the serious and frightened faces on his friends and he knew he went too far. At that moment, Stan spoke up, his voice wavering.

"What if she's still here?"

V No one answered, but Bill and Richie retreated farther in the tunnels.

"Eddie, come on!" Richie urged.

"My mom will have an aneurysm, okay, if she finds out that we're playing down here. I'm serious."

Bill hadn't acknowledged what anyone had said, this attention still focused on the murky waters below.

"Bill?"

He turned around a sad look in his eyes.

"If... If I was Betty Ripsom, I would want us to find me." They all shifted uncomfortably. "G-Georgie too."

Eddie, who couldn't contain his discomfort, shakily spoke up.

"What if I don't want to find them?"

Everyone looked to Eddie, shocked. Not surprised that he felt that way, but that he brought it up. Like some unspoken thought, they all had in the back of their minds.

"I mean, no offense, Bill, but I don't want to end up like..." The name Georgie almost rolled off his tongue, and he shook his head feeling guilty. "I don't want to go missing either."

"He has a point," Stan added.

"Y-y-you too?"

"It's summer. We're supposed to be having fun. This isn't fun. This is scary and disgusting."

The four of them gasped when a figure collapsed outside in the water. Stan and Eddie whirled around to see a boy gasping for breath on his hands and knees. He attempted to get back up but he fell once more. It looked as if this was the first time in a long while he had stopped to catch his breath. It was Ben Hanscom, but they knew him as the new kid.

Richie peered out of the tunnel.

"Holy shit! What happened to you?"

×××

"I think it's great we're helping the new kid but we also need to think of our own safety."

The five boys emerged from the forest, there bikes bouncing slowly on the grassy terrain before descending onto the pavement. Ben had been offered the backseat of Bill's bike, and the rest trailed behind as they made their way to the pharmacy downtown. As usual, Eddie was informing the group of the possible dangers of their current situation.

"I mean, he's bleeding all over and you guys know that there's an AIDS epidemic happening right now as we speak, right? And my mom's friend in New York City got it by touching a dirty pole on the subway. And a drop of AIDS blood got into his system through a hangnail. A hangnail!"

The gang was now halfway to the pharmacy and despite his rapid speech patterns, his rant had lasted the majority of the trip.

By the time they reached the alley outside the pharmacy, Eddie was wrapping up.

"...and you can amputate legs and arms. But how do you amputate a waist? How do you amputate a waist? You guys do know that alleys are known for dirty needles that have AIDS, right? You guys do know that?"

Like their knack for tuning out Richie's trash mouth, the rest of them had a knack for tuning out Eddie's medical rants.

They parked their bikes in the alley, and Ben took a seat on some wooden crates, leaning against the brick wall.

"Ah, we're screwed," Mumbled Stan.

Bill and the others began retreating down the alleyway.

"Richie, stay wait here. Come on,"

Richie stood awkwardly with Ben, and he chuckled weakly.

"Glad I got to meet you before you died."

Ben looked up at Richie, unimpressed with his joke and Richie shifted uneasily. And the unlikely duo waited in silence. Inside the pharmacy, Bill and Stan fell back, letting Eddie take the wheel. He grabbed nearly everything he could reach and in a few seconds, had a small pile packed against his chest.

Meanwhile, Stan and Bill had scoured their pockets for money, but all the two had managed to scrounge together was a measly three dollars.

"Can we afford all that?" Bill asked, referring to the small mountain of medical supplies Eddie was holding.

Stan held up the three dollar bills in his hands and shrugged. "It's all we got."

"You kidding me?" Eddie sighed, disappointed.

"Wait, you have an account here, don't you?" Bill asked hopefully.

Eddie gave his friend an incredulous look.

"If my mom finds out I bought all this stuff, I'm spending the whole rest of the weekend in the hospital getting x-rayed."

Two isles over Beverly stood facing the wall of feminine hygiene products. Y/n appeared from around the corner holding a small plastic bag of gauze and bandages that she had just paid for. She joined her friend's side, noticing the indecisiveness in Bev and she quickly scanned the shelves. She finally found the familiar brand and grabbed a box off the shelf and handed it to Beverly. She took it and looked to Y/n.

"If you're looking for comfort, this one's your best best bet." She whispered, smiling weakly.

Bev breathed a sigh of relief and sent her a grateful glance. Together, the two girls began treading towards the end of the aisle and around the corner. They both froze when they heard a familiar voice.

"See you later, Dad."

They caught a glimpse of Gretta at the opposite end, closing up her bag and the two girls quickly shuffled to the safety of the next aisle before Gretta could spot them. Except for Y/n, who moved in more of a quick hobble.

They rounded the corner and found themselves face to face with three familiar faces. Beverly instinctively shoved the box of tampons behind her back before they could notice it. And Y/n had realized why the boys were so familiar.

One of them, she realized, was completely fixated on her. The smaller boy who held several first aid supplies held to his chest and when he saw her, a roll of medical tape slipped from his hand. But his wide eyes never left her.

Everyone stood there awkwardly for a moment before Eddie broke the silence. He smiled nervously at her and shifted a bit on his feet.

"Hey, uh, hi! I remember you, how's the le-gaaahh..." his words spilled into a messy gasp as his eyes landed on her ankle.

By now, the makeshift white bandage was stained completely red, and it looked as if no more blood could possibly be soaked up.

Eddie tried desperately not to gag, though it was very difficult for him.

Bill looked between both girls before his eyes fell on Y/n's leg, but he tried not to stare.

"Are y-you guys, okay?"

Beverly quickly responded, looking between Y/n and the boys, eager to divert attention away from the box she held behind her.

"We just came to get supplies for her leg, that's it. What's wrong with you?"

"None of your business," Stan snapped, sensing her abrasiveness.

"There's a kid outside. Looked like someone killed him."

During the whole conversation, Eddie had looked at Beverly maybe once. His attention focused on Y/n, and all his energy went towards not looking at her ankle.

"W-we need s-s-some supplies, but we don't have enough money," Bill said sadly.

Beverly frowned the familiar sinking feeling in her stomach. She didn't want to, but she knew she had to. It was the only way she could think of distracting him and helping the boys. She looked anxiously at Mr. Keene and sighed. She gave one look at Y/n and lowered her voice.

"Go with them, or wait outside at least. I'll be right out,"

Y/n recognized the look in her best friend and she quickly shook her head.

"Beverly, you don't have to do this," she whispered.

"Just go, I'll be fine."

Beverly took off past the boys and headed to the counter.

"Bev," she hissed, but she ignored her.

Instinctively, she tried to follow her friend but she hissed in pain when she put pressure on her leg.

The boys immediately noticed her pain and Bill took a few steps forward, ready to catch her if she fell.

She caught herself before that could happen and Eddie shifted on his feet nervously. 

"Do you need help with your ankle? I know first aid and I could help you after I helped the new kid?"

"Ew," Y/n groaned, cringing.

Eddie tried to mask his hurt unsuccessfully, he looked down to his feet and his cheeks turned pink.

"A simple no would have sufficed, Jesus," he mumbled.

"What? Oh," she shook her head, "no, It's Mr. Keene, " 

Y/n frowned, gesturing to Beverly at the counter.

Mr. Keene was looking Bev up and down, hungrily. The way he was smiling at her made her nauseous.

"Oh..." Eddie turned around to see what she was talking about, and Stan and Bill did too. "Oh."

They watched Bev take off his glasses of her face, folding them up. While handing them back she "accidentally" knocked over the small shelf of cigarettes. Mr. Keene smiled weakly and bent over to pick them up.

"Come on, let's go," Y/n whispered quickly.

She was backing up, gesturing for the boys to follow her. But they were still staring at Beverly in shock.

"Now! Come on!" She hissed under her breath.

Beverly grabbed a pack of cigarettes that had landed on the counter, and Y/n realized the boys were never gonna figure it out in time. 

"Oh for fuck's sake," rolling her eyes, she grabbed two of their wrists, her grocery bag hooked on one finger and began pulling them towards the door. 

Beverly cast a glance over her shoulder, to see Y/n dragging the boys away.

The boys stumbled out of the aisle, tripping over themselves in the process. Y/n was dragging Eddie and Bill by their wrists and Stan had caught on. Eddie was taken aback, but he was mostly distracted by the fact that he was dropping his supplies left and right.

"Jesus, you'd think you never saw a distraction before in your lives," Y/n sighed, releasing the boys.

Eddie scoffed, making a face implying he was going to say something but instead, he awkwardly looked away, words failing him.

"Alright, well...?" she looked between the three boys expectantly, they were all staring at her, waiting to see what she had to say.

She raised her eyebrows, not believing they had already forgotten about the injured kid.

"The kid? Bleeding out somewhere? We gonna help him or what?"

Shock washed over them and Eddie and Stan took off around the corner, and Y/n followed. Bill walked after them to the alley, seeming to linger by the entrance to the store to wait for Bev.

Y/n hobbled down the alley and by the time she got there Eddie was already knelt down in front of Ben. He was riling through his supplies, and Ben lifted his shirt.

Y/n noticed Richie Tozier had been waiting with the injured boy. Poor kid, she thought. When Richie saw her, he adjusted his glasses and smiled smugly.

"Hey, toots!"

Y/n plastered on an obviously fake smile and tilted her head. "Hey, dick."

Letting the name roll off his back he smiled, Richie clicked his tongue and winked. "That's my name, don't wear it out."

Despite her annoyance, a small chuckle escaped her mouth and she rolled her eyes. She was now looking at the kid who sat on some crates, the small boy tending to his wound. She winced, and took a seat next to him, relieved to get off her bad ankle.

"So," she said simply, drawing the boy's attention. "Whatcha in for?" 

He tilted his head, clearly confused. She extended her bad leg and pointed to it.

"Bad leg,"

The boy's eyes widened slightly and he looked back to her. "Some gnarly cuts. What about you?"

"Oh, uh, well same I guess." He said, and she nodded.

"Just suck the wound." The two looked up to see Richie who addressed the smaller boy.

He immediately grew impatient, trying desperately not to get distracted.

"I really need to focus right now."

"You need to focus?"

"Yeah, can you go get me something?"

"Jesus! What do you need?"

"Go get my bifocals. I hid 'em in my second fanny pack."

Y/n leaned forward, interested and slightly amused. "You have a second fanny pack?"

The other boy, who was standing near her nodded. "Yeah, why do you have two?"

"I need to focus right now and it's a long story. I don't want to get into it."

Bill, who had been lingering at the end of the alley, heard the jingle of the store bell and he stepped back out on the sidewalk. Beverly was leaving the store and she walked towards him, knowing her friend must be nearby. Bill could have sworn timed slowed when she smiled. Nervously, Bill reached into his pocket, pulling out a couple of dollars and offered it to her.

"T-t-thanks."

She held up a pack of smokes and winked. "Even stephen."

Her attention was drawn to the voices coming from the alley.

"Oh, God, he's bleeding! Oh, my God!" It was Stanley.

She saw Y/n and the boys crowded around a familiar face, she smiled fondly and headed their way. "Ben from soch?"

"You have to suck the wound before you apply the Band-Aids. This is 101!"

"You don't know what you're talking about."

Ben looked up from the bickering duo and at the figure walking down the alley. His pulse quickened ever so slightly at the beautiful sight of Beverly Marsh.

"Are you okay?" She asked worriedly as she approached them. "That looks like it hurts."

Ben shifted nervously and smiled. "Oh. No, I'm good. I just fell."

Richie scoffed. "Yeah, right into Henry Bowers."

Bill panicked, and shushed the boy, much to Beverly's confusion. Y/n grew curious too.

"Why? It's the truth." Richie defended.

Beverly took a step forward, smiling coyly at Ben. "You sure they got the right stuff to fix you up?"

She winked and Ben felt his heart might explode. He smiled bashfully and looked down at the ground.

At that moment, the smaller boy had finished tending to him and had moved over to face Y/n's leg. She hadn't been paying attention and was surprised when she felt a tug on the cloth and she hissed in pain, drawing everyone's attention.

Eddie hesitated and looked up at her apologetically. "Oh, sorry. This is okay, right? That I do this? It's just that right now you're exposing yourself to hundreds and thousands of bacteria and infection and this really needs to be checked out, so unless you're on your way to the hospital anytime time soon, I really think I-"

Y/n chuckled and nodded her head, cutting him off. 

"Yes! Yes, it's okay. I'd really appreciate it," she smiled warmly, growing fond of this kid already. "I'm Y/n, by the way. Y/n L/n."

He nodded his head and for a moment he forgot how to speak. "Uh, Y/- Eddie. Eddie. I'm, Eddie. Kaspbrak."

Amused, she watched Eddie get to work. She heard him mutter something about how he should have grabbed latex gloves, and he gagged when he pulled the cloth off her leg. Everyone's attention was pulled back to her and Eddie when he held the blood-soaked cloth far away from himself. Tossing it a few feet away from himself, they heard it land on the pavement with a sopping wet slap.

Everyone, save for Beverly and Y/n, were shocked to see her actual wound. And poor Eddie looked as if he would faint.

"Oh, my God! Oh, my-"

"Holy, fuck!"

"S-s-shit,"

"That's why we came here. All we could find was that cloth."

"Oh my God, where's the gauze?" He looked to Richie in a panic. "Where's the fucking gauze?"

"Here take mine," Y/n shoved her grocery bag at him and he took it gladly.

He unwrapped the gauze and applied several strips to her leg in order to cover each cut. She leaned down, placing her hand on some of them to keep them in place for him while he unwrapped the bandages.

"W-what happened anyway?" Bill looked between Y/n and Beverly.

Bev shrugged, and Y/n grew quiet, her eyes shifting around. "cat,"

Beverly frowned, clearly not buying it, knowing there wasn't any cat around when I happened. Y/n met her eye, giving her. a look that screamed "Just please go with it," And Bev let it go, for now.

"What kind of cat could've done that?" Asked the boy with curly hair.

Before Y/n could make up a lie, Richie jumped in, scoffing. "The bullshit kind, that's what."

Y/n gave him a weak glare, letting her eyes fix on her leg as it was being wrapped up.

"Thank you, Eddie."

"Sure thing." He was just finishing up applying the special ace bandage tape from her bag. "You're all set."

She gave him a warm smile and stood, wincing less. She smiled at the feeling. "It feels better already. Thanks again."

He nodded and stood to his feet.

"Well, I guess we better get going." Y/n said looking at Bev, who nodded.

"Uh, t-thanks again, Beverly," Bill said, referring to her distraction.

She smiled. "Sure. Maybe we'll see you around."

"Y-yeah, we were thinking about on-going to the q-q-quarry tomorrow," he looked to Eddie briefly with a smirk, before returning his gaze to the two girls. "if you guys wanna come."

"Good to know. Thanks." She replied.

Y/n joined Beverly by her side, her bag of supplies she had retrieved in hand, and smiled. "Yeah, maybe we'll see you guys there." 

Her eyes landed on Eddie and he stood to his feet, much too fast. A pink hue dusting his cheeks. Y/n shared a nod with Beverly and the two were off, both of them casting a glance and wave at the group of boys before disappearing around the corner.

Stanley turned quickly on Richie. "Nice going bringing up Bowers in front of Beverly."

"Yeah, dude, you heard what she did."

Ben, who had remained silent on the cartons, spoke up curiously. "What'd she do?"

Richie smirked. "More like 'Who'd she do?' From what I hear, the list is longer than my wang."

"That's not saying much." Stan retorted, rolling his eyes.

Bill jumped in, his stutter got stronger. "T-t-they're j-just rumors."

"Anyway," Richie continued, addressing Ben. "Bill had her back in third grade. They kissed in the school play. The reviews said you can't fake that sort of passion."

Ben's heart sank, not in the least bit intrigued. And his sudden somber went completely unnoticed by the bickering boys. And somehow, all of them failed to notice the new figure painted behind the tire in the mural of the Bradley gang behind them. It was the pale white face of a clown, with a big crooked smile, and large tufts of orange hair and beady yellow eyes, right where Y/n's head had been. It had been watching all of them.


	5. • Bust A Move •

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warnings: sexual assault implications. This very first scene with Beverly involves her and her father, and her fear of him doing something to her. If you'd like to skip I have marked the end of the encounter with this: [●●●] When you see this marker, that means it is over and you can read the rest of the chapter in peace. This chapter will begin with this scene so if you are skipping, proceed to scroll until you see the marker.
> 
> A//n: you certainly will not hurt my feelings if you skip the scene. This was a very difficult mindset to get into myself and I struggled a lot emotionally with writing it. But I promise, the rest of the chapter is heartwarming and fun and overall is the foundation of friendships and significant to Y/n's arc, her induction into the Losers Club [including her link to Henry and what "makes her a loser" and the budding relationship between her and Eddie.
> 
> Word Count: So big I had to add a word count, 7849. Oof, take some breaks peeps.

With a terrible sinking feeling and a churning stomach, Beverly walked through her front door. She tightened her grip on the plastic bag she held behind her back, praying her father wasn't around to see what she had bought. As she crept through her apartment, scanning for any signs of life, she absentmindedly heard the words of the children's program echoing throughout the residence.

"Toilet and bath water travel down the drains and into the sewer." The front closed, not as quietly as Bev had hoped. "The sewer is a fun place to play with all of your friends. Just follow the water into the drains and down into the sewers you go."

The words of the cheerful program hostess echoed off the walls and went unnoticed by Bev. "When you're with your friends in the sewers, you can be as silly as a clown!"

She poked her head cautiously into the living room, it was empty.

"That's right, it's the word of the day."

Bev walked quickly and briskly down the hall, nearing the safety of the bathroom when the large looming figure of her father appeared. Beverly met his eye, fear settling in her chest as she gulped.

"Hi, Daddy." Her voice came out in a choked whisper, a side only her father could bring out in her.

"Hey, Bevvie." His eyes flickered down at her grocery bag and back up at her. "Whatcha got there?"

Her eyes fluttered down to the concealed box of tampons in the bag, knowing, no, dreading this day. This is what she had feared would happen. Why, she cursed herself. Why the fuck hadn't she just done this in the safety of Y/n's apartment?

"Just some things,"

"Like what?" He took the bag from her hands and rifled through.

He grinned suddenly and his eyes zeroed in on Bev. She felt her whole body stiffen in terror. He knew now. And there was no telling what he would do. Her eyes drifted to the wall behind him, and there they stayed, much too frightened to look him in the eye. His rough and calloused hand touched the side of her face and she fought her instincts to recoil, knowing better.

He brought her in close, and he closed his eyes. He took a long lingering sniff of her hair and she felt the icy cold grip of fear grasp her heart. Tears pooled in her eyes and his hand fell to her long red hair, and he now held it in his palm. She felt the hair on the back of her neck stand up, fear prickling her skin and he stroked her red locks with his thumb, possessively.

"Tell me you're still my little girl."

Two little words, she told herself. Two little words she had to say and it and he would be on his way. Hopefully.

"Yes, Daddy."

"Good."

His palm returned to the side of her face, and he motioned her away. A flooding sense of relief washed over her and she slipped around him and disappeared into the safety of the bathroom.

Her palms gripped the sink, and the running faucet almost completely covered the noise of her distraught sobs. Her salty tears that fell from her cheeks landed in the sink and were carried down the pipes along with the rest of the running water. A long and slender pair of silver scissors lay next to her palm on counter. With a shaky hand, she brought the scissors up to her loose hair.

The hair that he strokes, the hair that he smells, and the same fucking hair that draws every unwanted eye in town, including her own father. Grasping a long lock of hair, she hesitated. Only once. But countless memories flooded her at once. How many times he looked at her, how he looked at her. No. No more.

She snipped a lock of hair and she smelled the whiff of freedom it brought. The feeling disappeared just as quickly as it had come but and was soon replaced by more spite. Spite and fear.

"This is what you did," she whispered, cutting another chunk of hair. "This is what you..."

She grabbed another chunk of hair, eagerly. Desperately.

"This,"

Another lock gone.

"And this,"

She kept her eyes on the sink, watching wisps of orange hair circle the drain before disappearing. She angrily grasped larger chunks of hair, working feverishly. The hair fell from her head so fast, it began to pile up in the sink. Sobs racked her body and her hand returned to her head and she realized there was no more.

For the first time she let her herself look at her reflection. There stood a sad and frightened young girl. Beverly ran a hand through her shortened hair, lingering on her scalp as she adjusted to the new feeling. Her once long and gorgeous head of hair was no more, choppy and uneven curls was all that was left. It was short and messy, not unlike hair she'd find on most boys at her school.

Good.

[●●●]

Y/n didn't know why she bothered looking in her drawers for clothes, she barely had any in the first place. Decent clothes at least, just about everything she owned was second hand and it was not uncommon that they were torn slightly in places.

She wondered why the hell she was nervous in the first place. Then her fingers found the familiar nylon of the swimsuit fabric, and she sighed. Right.

Y/n and Bev had agreed to go swimming with a bunch of boys they barely knew. It wasn't that hard to connect the dots when they mentioned where they were going, it was the quarry after all. But it never quite dawned on her until now, that she was going swimming with several boys she barely knew. Even though Bev would be there, that wasn't exactly a comfort. She never quite had her friend's confidence.

Despite her home life and all the nasty whispers that floated through town, Beverly didn't let it affect how she saw herself, a quality Y/n admired. The same couldn't quite be said for herself. She could barely afford to go to school at Derry High, her family worked paycheck to paycheck just to send her to school. And she didn't like to talk about it, but Beverly had time and time again lent her money for little things that she couldn't afford herself. In fact, she had a few old jackets and shoes that Beverly had given her.

The two girls were more than thankful for their friendship, both a perfect fit for one another, like two pieces of a puzzle. Each of them were able and willing to give the other what they could provide, whether it was some borrowed money, or a safe haven away from a leering father, and of course a never ending source of love and support. But of course, occasionally, no matter how hard she fought, the little green monster wormed its way into her mind. It always managed to pluck her most treasured memories with Bev, and stain it with jealousy, rotting it with envy and disgust. It picked at her confidence and fed her venomous lies that completely contorted their friendship.

Like the only reason people knew about her was because she was friends with Beverly. It was the beautiful Beverly Marsh and ol' What's Her Face. She would occasionally catch herself wishing she could draw attention like that, but she quickly dismissed it. No, she shook her head, ridding herself of the thought, no it's not worth it. She reminded herself of all the horror stories she had heard from Bev, and had witnessed for herself, in the many years of their friendship.

Sure, she was easily noticed by cute guys at her school, and that was fun and exciting at her age, but she was also noticed by older men. Men like Mr. Keene, and he was only one example in dozens of men all over town. Not to mention her own father. Any time the little green monster returned, it diminished itself in the pity Y/n felt for her best friend. But that didn't mean it wasn't hard for Y/n to hear the many names she had been called. "Filthy little tramp!"

And not to mention the countless side glances followed by surprise from boys - and girls - that she had in fact been there standing next to Bev the whole time, and they only just noticed her. She was always the sidekick. "So ditch the street rat and we'll go to the movies, you and me."

Anytime anybody thought she couldn't hear them, they spoke ill of her. Hell, not even then, most people didn't care if she overheard. Usually, they were trying to persuade Bev in one way or another to leave her behind.

"What is she, your little puppy dog? Just tell her you're sick or somethin' and you're home free,"

"Look, you're friend seems... nice, but she doesn't fit in with us. Either come alone or don't come at all."

Of course, Beverly never bought into that crap. Y/n was too important to her, she was Beverly's saving grace after all. And there was no way in hell she would let anyone talk about Y/n that way.

"Then I guess I'm not coming." She'd reply. "If you really need a date so bad just take the stick up your ass,"

Y/n smiled at the memory. Oh, how she relished in the shock on their faces. That particular comeback had them running away with giddy laughter as they wove through the halls, the angry trio of boys after them. They found sanctuary in a small hiding spot behind the school where they remained until the trio gave up and went home with slightly deflated egos.

This was another reason Y/n was ashamed to have these thoughts, Beverly clearly cared for her and would be very upset to know she thought these things of herself.

As Y/n pulled her worn out jean shorts over her bathing suit, she searched her bed for the t-shirt she had set aside. She slipped it on and as she looked in the slightly cracked mirror she felt a small bud of confidence blooming in her chest.

Beverly had her back, and she had hers. And she knew if Richie ever made some comment about her, Bev would shut it down if she hadn't first. The bud of confidence spread in her chest as she could feel herself being persuaded.

That was, until she noticed the tag on the outside of her shirt. She sighed exasperated, and quite frankly, rather exhausted. Y/n hadn't gotten much sleep the previous night. If she tried hard enough, she was able to push the memory to the back of her mind and forget, but only for the day. Then of course, if was time for her to go to bed. Then every detail of what she saw, what she felt, was amplified in the silence of her room. She flinched at every creek in the walls, every car that passed by.

And she didn't dare move her feet out from under her blankets, no matter how hot she felt. Of course, this ended up being one of the reasons it was difficult to fall asleep.

Y/n counted herself lucky she fell asleep at all. And yet, the thought of being unconscious, completely unguarded and unprepared, where anything could happen - anything could get her - was just as unsettling. She wished Beverly was there with her, but she knew she had to sleep alone eventually.

Right on cue, she heard the soft rap on wood come from down the hall in the living room. Beverly was here. Casting one last glance at her reflection, and her shirt now fixed, Y/n took a deep breath and made her way to the front door. She made the mistake of glancing at the carpet and the faded red stain and she felt a sudden prick of fear in her heart and the sudden hyper-awareness of her injury. Trying not to give it much thought, she took a deep breath returning her attention to the door, swiftly stepping over the spot on the carpet.

Her attention focused on undoing the many locks on the door, she failed to notice her friend's new look through the window. It came as quite a surprise to Y/n, having only known Beverly with long hair. She would have brought it up if it wasn't for the look on Beverly's face.

Her eyes were on the ground and when the door opened, Bev slowly met Y/n's eye. She recognized the look in Bev's eye, a look that screamed 'I really don't want to talk about it right now.' A look she had given to her not too long ago herself. Y/n plastered on a smile and broke the small moment of silence.

"You ready?"

×××

Richie Tozier does not hold back when it comes to spitting contests. Himself, Stan, Bill, Ben, and Eddie were standing at the cliffs edge, stripped down to their underwear and Richie was first up to bat. He did not shy away from whatever method he needed to conjure the spitball, no matter the foul noises he made in the process. He reeled back and launched the spitball over the cliff, and the rest of the boys followed suit.

Eddie flinched when his own mucus landed on the rocks near his feet.

"Oh, my God, that was terrible. I win." Richie exclaimed.

Eddie looked at him, dumbfounded. "You won?"

"Yeah."

"Did you see my loogie?"

"That went the farthest!" Richie argued, gesturing where he spit. "It's by distance."

"Mass. It's always been mass."

Richie began sputtering in disbelief, but Eddie continued.

"Who cares how far it goes? It matters how cool it looks, like it's green or it's white or juicy and fat."

Ben cringed, and he met eyes with Bill who gave him a look that said 'see what I have to put up with?' He shook his head, shutting down the conversation before it continue further.

"Who's first?"

There was a brief moment of silence and the boys looked over the cliff into the emerald waters, contemplating the jump.

"I'll go!"

They turned their heads to see Beverly Marsh and Y/n L/n. Beverly had been the one to speak and she dropped her bike to the ground before discarding her dress. Their eyes widened and Beverly smiled.

"Sissies," she laughed.

She broke into a light jog, the boys parting like the red sea and she launched herself off the cliff.

"What the fuck!" Richie exclaimed.

They looked at the water in which Beverly had disappeared, completely dumbfounded. Suddenly and in perfect sync, they looked to Y/n, almost expecting to see her do something equally surprising but she merely gave them an odd look. She set down her bike and shifted on her feet uncomfortably.

"What?"

They all broke out of their gaze, rather obviously, and tried to look anywhere but her, knowing they'd been caught.

She had to remind herself that she wasn't the only one who would be undressed, and everyone else, besides herself, already was. Taking advantage of their distracted nature, she quickly slipped off her shorts and t-shirt, making sure to slip out of her shoes as well.

"Come on!" Beverly's voice was distant, but it grabbed everyone's attention.

Bill was the next to make the jump, followed by Ben. Next was a less than eager Stan, leaving Richie, Eddie and Y/n who had cautiously joined them at the edge. Richie looked between Eddie and Y/n, then back to the water.

He sighed deeply, taking a step forward and removing his glasses, and tossing them on his pile of clothes.

"Well, fuck" He took a deep breath and jumped off the cliff, leaving Eddie and Y/n alone.

They shared an equally nervous look with a few uneasy smiles. Y/n peered over the edge, scanning the water for a safe space to land. As she waited for the moving figures of Richie and Stan swimming away from the landing zone, Eddie couldn't help but look at her. Observing the small crinkle of her brow and how unsure she felt, he felt his own fears vanish. Something inside him wanted to make her feel less nervous, and perhaps that was his own way of deflecting his own fears but he didn't care.

"I'll go if you go," he offered.

She looked at him in slight surprise, and a small smile tugged at her lips. Y/n looked between Eddie and the water, shifting weight off of her bad leg. This smile was less forced, and genuine, it was thankful. And Eddie felt a wave of nerves bubbling in his stomach, not at the jump, but the kindness in her eyes, and the way she mentally built herself up.

She nodded and they both gazed at the lake below, everyone was looking at them now. They had cleared a space and Eddie and Y/n could hear the remarks being made by their friends.

"On three?" She asked, quirking a brow.

"On three." He nodded, backing up slightly. "One,"

Y/n suddenly shook her head, stepping back and spoke at a rapid rate, cutting Eddie off.

"Fuck, if I wait that long I'll change my mind. Let's go," Without warning, she grabbed his hand and jumped off the cliff, giving him no choice but to jump with her.

It never even occurred to Eddie that he could have let go of her hand.

Eddie felt his heart leap into his throat and he was certain time stopped still as he was suspended in air. Perhaps it was the sudden change in view and the fact he was practically pulled off the cliff and how high he was above the water, or maybe it was her hand around his - no, nope. It was the height, definitely the height.

On their way down he gasped in fear at the rapidly approaching water and he felt her hand leave his as she braced for impact. Eddie tried not to think of the millions of germs in the water, and he could feel the thousands of bubbles grazing his body as he sunk deeper into the water. When he emerged he gasped for air, reminding himself to steady his breathing, less he have an asthma attack. He realized his throat was sore and that he must have screamed the whole way down.

He looked round at the cheering figures of his friends, whooping and cheering them on. Though he tried not to panic when he counted only five figures above the surface. Just before he could ask where she was, Y/n burst out of the water next to Ben, gasping for air.

"Holy shit!" She wiped her face with her hand, clearing the drops of water obstructing her vision.

"Took you long enough," Bev smirked.

Richie nodded. "Yeah, too bad you guys missed out. We were just about to pack it up and call it a day."

Eddie rolled his eyes and Y/n sunk further into water, all the way up to her nose.

Y/n concentrated on kicking her legs and her arms moved back and forth under the water keeping herself afloat. The others, specifically Richie and Eddie, had already launched into another debate.

"Do you have any idea, how filthy this water is. We'll be lucky if we don't contract something, I am serious right now. So forgive me if I am a little hesitant to jump into this cesspool of germs and bacteria. Not to mention the several loogies that are floating around here somewhere, or did you forget already?"

"Oh sure, now you're worried about loogies, Mr. 'juicy and fat'"

Bev, who had begun looking around her in confusion and slight concern, spoke up. "Loogies?"

"Juicy and fat?" Y/n asked disgusted, her face scrunched up, looking questioningly between Richie and Eddie.

Eddie blinked once, and shook his head. Desperate to change the subject, he diverted his attention back to Richie, pretending Y/n hadn't heard that.

"Besides, if we weren't careful enough, we could have seriously hurt ourselves jumping from that height. Even if we knew there were no rocks in the water, a fall from from anything higher and we could have died, I'm not doing that shit again. If you want to go swimming, fine by me, but I'm not jumping anymore, I'll just meet you guys down here."

"Don't be such a drama queen Eds, you jump a million times if it meant you had a pretty hand to hold on the way down and you know it, "

Y/n looked to Richie, her brows furrowing and she was thankful the water was already concealing her pink cheeks. Eddie, unfortunately did not have the same luxury.

"Fuck you, Richie,"

Richie smirked. "Eddie, please, now's not the time for romance."

Eddie's face scrunched up and he splashed Richie in the face, who had began chuckling at his friends response. Immediately, he retaliated with a splash of his own. Unfortunately, it hit Stan who frowned, and splashed back. It wasn't long before the entire group was involved, save for Y/n who was giggling off to the side where she was free of any water hitting her face.

"Alright, alright," Stan waved his arms around, signaling for a truce. "Alright!"

Everyone settled down and the water began to calm.

"We should-" Stan was briefly interrupted by splash to the face, and he stopped to glare at Richie and sighed, wiping his face. "Chicken, we have enough people, who wants to play?"

"Me against wheezy first," Richie jabbed his thumb over his shoulder at Eddie, who had in fact been wheezing. "I need to defend my title and he made it awfully clear last time he thought he could take me,"

"I can asshole, I already told you. I had an asthma attack, if I hadn't I would have won and you know it."

"Wanna prove it?"

"Oh, it is so on, dickhead. Same circumstances, same partners, Stan come on!"

Already regretting his decision to bring it up, Stan fell in line with the others as they entered shallow waters. Bill lifted Richie on his shoulders, and Stan lifted Eddie. Beverly had swam over to join Y/n and the two girls watched the chicken fight with great amusement.

Y/n almost didn't notice the quiet figure of Ben, who had joined them off to the side. He had been neglecting to speak, but she recognized the longing look of wanting to fit in. She smiled, and swam over to join him. He seemed surprised she had joined him, but he returned the smile, albeit a bit nervously.

"How's your stomach, Ben?"

"Huh?" Ben gave Y/n a funny look, but before she count point out his stomach injury, it seemed to click "Oh! Oh, yeah, uh, it's feeling better, thank you. What about you? H-How's your leg?"

"Better, thank you."

A genuine smile tugged at her lips, feeling herself relax at the company of the boy. Y/n had barely known him, but she was intuitive enough to know that he was timid and kind. And though she was enjoying the new company of the other boys, it was nice to have a more relaxed presence. Though there was Stan, but Y/n had yet to get to know him.

Their attention was pulled back to the chicken fight when they heard a sharp yelp and felt the water shift around them. And there sitting atop Stan's shoulders, waving his arms triumphantly was Eddie, whooping and hollering.

A smirk grew on Y/n's face at this. It only grew wider when Richie emerged.

"Foul!" Richie exclaimed, pointing at Eddie and shifting effortlessly into another persona. "Aaaaand Kaspbrak is outta the game!"

"What? What the hell are you talking about?" Eddie asked, waving his arms slightly.

"You pushed me, that's a foul."

"That's the whole premise of the game! Of course I pushed you!"

"You know what I mean, dillhole, you shoved my shoulders! That's a foul!"

"No, that's allowed. The attackers get to use any means necessary to knock the opposer down, that's stated very clearly in the rules!"

"Show me this rule book Eds, cause it's sounds an awful lot like you're making this shit up just because you can't win without playing dirty!"

"Or maybe you just can't stand the fact that I beat you! I'm the one with the title now, aren't I?"

"Oh, is that so-?"

Ben, who had been growing uncomfortable from the heated argument, spoke up nervously. At least he tried to, but Y/n was the only one who heard him so she cleared her throat, grabbing everyone's attention. Ben seemed relieved.

"Why don't we just do new teams?"

"G-good idea," Bill spoke up, and he looked around the small group. "W-who wants t-to go next?"

"Oh, I want to play!" Bev smiled walking against the water into the shallower parts of the water, but she stopped briefly, looking over her shoulder. "Ben, do you want to be my partner?"

Ben tried to hide his blush, and he shyly nodded his head. "Uh, sure, yeah."

Ben joined her, but she began looking around. "Alright, who's opposing?"

Beverly caught Y/n's eye, and gestured hopefully over. Y/n smiled nervously and shook her head, her lips pressed into a firm line, and Bev shrugged.

"Alright then, Richie, why don't you play us, if you're clearly an expert."

"Gee, I would but my shoulders are killing me, I think I'm out for the season,"

"Grow up, asshole, just go." Said Eddie, who had dismounted Stan's shoulders.

"Well, since you asked so nicely," Richie said. "Bill, you're up."

"W-why don't we let someone else g-go?"

"Why? S'the matter with you?"

Bill shrugged. "N-nothing. Just thought I'd l-let someone else go."

Richie gave him an odd look but shrugged it off. "Fine,"

Richie then spotted a Y/n, at least who he assumed was Y/n - he didn't have his glasses after all - who was hiding in the water, despite how shallow it was. It finally clicked that she had barely said a word since, well, since she and Bev showed up, he realized. She seemed different, she held herself differently than how she was in class. In class, she usually was able to keep up with his quick wit. He never told her this, but he enjoyed her company. He pegged her as someone who was quick witted and didn't take shit from anyone, and he admired that.

But now she was quiet and reserved. Hell, she must be sitting on her ass right right now just to stay under the water. Richie didn't understand this. Now facing her, he dug his hand in the water and splashed her face, ripping her out of her thoughts, and she looked at him startled.

She had to wipe away the fresh water droplets running down her face, and she narrowed her eyes at him.

"What the hell?"

"Come on, I need a partner and Denbrough bailed. You're up."

She scoffed, slinking deeper into the water.

"Come on, whatya', chicken?" He quipped, quirking an eyebrow.

If he knew anything about this girl, she wasn't one to shy away went it came to making a comeback. Sure enough, she rolled her eyes and raised her head ever so slightly so her lips were above the water.

"No, I'm not, that's why I'm not playing." She said snidely.

He smiled triumphantly to himself, considering it a win he was able to get her to speak more than three words.

"Come on, toots, it'll be fine. We'd make a great team!" He exaggerated a dopey grin and gestured for her to join him.

Richie may have been blind as a bat, but he could tell she was considering it. She looked around at everyone, who was watching the exchange expectantly. Y/n didn't know if it was everyone's stares or the fact the fact she was genuinely tempted but she gave in and made her way over to him.

Richie, who still wasn't completely sure is she was moving or not, gave her a cheeky wink, and pushed his luck even further. "I'll let you be on top,"

Richie expected a comeback or a even a scoff from her, not a pair of hands roughly shoving him into the water by his shoulders. Naturally he figured, one of his friends had done this, tired of his antics and found a unique way to shut him up, but then he felt a pair of legs take a seat on his shoulders and he knew it was Y/n.

Once he was sure she was secure he rose up out of the water, gasping for air when he reached the surface. The others, cheered her on, welcoming her to the fun.

She nearly tipped over as he readjusted in the sand, but she grabbed onto his hair by his scalp and he winced.

"Ah, watch it! I am quite fond of my scalp, you know,"

"As long as you watch that trashmouth of yours Tozier, one more comment like that and I'll drown you," she peered over his head, giving him a light but slightly teasing glare.

Nevertheless, she loosened her grip and he blinked a few times, his scalp tingling. "Duly noted,"

Nobody seemed to hear the small chuckle that escaped Eddie who had been watching, quite impressed with her ability to shut the boy up. He'd have to ask her how she does it.

"Alright, come on, we gonna play or what?" Bev asked, despite the grin that worked its way onto her face.

She too was happy to see her friend coming out of her shell, she could tell she had been nervous and Richie proved to be a big help, much to her surprise.

"It's on, we have got this in the bag!" Richie bragged, getting into position across from Ben.

Richie cast a glance up to his partner and smiled cheekily, batting his eyelashes. "Right babe?"

Immediately she whacked his head with her hand and he winced once more. "What did I just tell you?"

"Alright, alright! Jeez," He tightened his arms around her legs, securing her in place and he took a step forward towards their opponents. "But do keep in mind, we are on the same team, you want to hit the other players"

He missed the eye roll she gave, but nevertheless she smirked, shaking out her arms, getting ready for the match.

Bill, who usually announced the beginning of a round, did just that. With one simple word, the girls locked in on one another, theirs hands interlaced and they each pushed with all their might.

There were several close calls, on both teams, but they always persevered. Unexpectedly, Richie took a few steps back, and Ben, confused by his tactic, stepped forward after them. Though both of them moved slowly, their speed affected against the water, and Y/n nearly tipped over, but her balance was regained when Richie leaned forward and ran forward against the water, tipping Y/n forward and giving her more momentum.

Catching Bev off guard she was able to prove successful in her efforts to push her over. Beverly came tumbling off of Ben's shoulders, and almost kicked the poor boy in the face on the way down. Richie and Y/n cheered victoriously, and even Ben cracked a smile at their unexpected move.

Eddie, who had found himself rooting for them, despite his previous grudge against his old opponent, whooped and hollered at their win. Bill and Stan cheered as well, and Beverly broke the surface, a big smile on her face.

Y/n had already forgotten her nerves and felt a swelling sense of comradery and a growing respect for her partner.

"Alright, ready to put this to the ultimate test?" Richie asked, addressing his partner and the rest of the group. "New champs, versus old champs,"

Y/n smiled, looking to Eddie and Stan hopefully, now completely invested in the fun. Eddie felt a swell of confidence and gave in, Stan joining him.

"Fine, but no playing dirty," Eddie mocked, looking at Richie.

Richie smirked. "No promises,"

Eddie, who now struggled to climb onto Stan's shoulders, scoffed.

Eventually, everyone was situated and Eddie suddenly felt a small flurry of butterflies in his stomach that he briefly mistook for nausea. But he realized that it was in fact butterflies when he saw Y/n opposite him. They were brought closer by their respective partners who stepped forward, preparing for the match. She glared playfully at him, a small smirk on her lips and she outstretched her arms ready to fight. He hadn't realized the match had begun until he was forced to scramble for balance on Stan's shoulders when she went for his arms.

Their hands interlaced for the second time that day and now he was certain his racing heart was caused by this. Nevertheless, he pushed those feelings aside, reminding himself he wanted to beat Richie again, but the motivation to do so was weaker this time. Though he didn't let this shake his competitiveness so he matched her strength and the two laughed and grunted as they both tried desperately to push one another down.

Each of them found the other to be a surprising match for themselves. They would often find themselves going for the same opportunities only for the other to be prepared for it. Everyone was now completely invested in the match, everyone cheering them on though they didn't quite know which team they were rooting for.

Eventually, Stan and Richie had had the same idea and moved in closer in an attempt to push the limits. Both Richie and Stan were beginning to lose interest in who would win, eager to give their arms and legs a break. When they both moved in closer, hoping one of their partners would take advantage of the distance and strike, but once again the pair had the same idea. They leaned into the momentum, each giving one last push and much to everyone's surprise, they both fell on their backs, crashing against the water and earning a small sting from the contact.

Y/n sunk into the water, slower and slower and she felt her back lightly hit the sand. She felt something graze her ankle, her bad ankle, and before she could stop herself her eyelids ripped open. She flinched in the water, pulling her leg away and she had to blink several times just to adjust to seeing underwater, her heart pounding in fear. But much to her relief, right where her ankle had been, she saw a piece of plastic poking out of the sand, swaying back and forth.

She would have breathed a sigh of relief but she saved her breath and returned to the surface. She had already lost a small puff of air when she had inadvertently yelped at the contact the plastic had made with her foot.

Her small panic seemed to have gone unnoticed by the group and everyone had begun milling about, getting lost in their own conversations.

Y/n looked around at her new friends, and she felt a warmth grow in her chest. By now, she had joined them in deeper waters, once again slinking back into the water but this time it wasn't from fear of judgement but staying cool in the warm June sun. Everyone was lost in their own conversations but she knew she was just apart of this group as everyone else was. As she looked around at all the smiling faces, she relaxed.

An unexpected laugh escaped her as she saw Eddie holding Richie under the surface and she swam over in their direction. Richie popped up for air and slapped the boy away, though he still wore a goofy grin. Eddie, unlike Richie, was unaware of her approach, a fact Richie declined to give away.

Y/n was now just behind him, a sly grin on her face and Stan, who had noticed her intentions, called out Eddie making him turn around.

Sure enough, he whirled around, his face half a foot away from Y/n and she splashed the unsuspecting Kaspbrak boy in the face. On instinct, he whirled back around, only for Richie to do the same and he desperately wiped his face.

"What the hell is happening!" It came out in shriek that amused everyone in the group.

Richie and Y/n both let out a chortle of laughter, and soon even Stan had joined in. Though he didn't know whether or not it was from the excitement he felt or the fact the trick he had fallen for that twice in a row, Eddie began to feel the effects of his friends contagious laughter ripple through himself. He shook his head, hoping the smirk he was fighting would be shaken off as well but no matter his efforts, is was glued on his face.

Though something in Stan compelled him to get back at Richie - who was enjoying all too much the fact he now had help in teasing Eddie - that he decided to splash Richie without warning. Perhaps it was because he wanted to catch Richie off guard, like Richie had done to him earlier. No matter the reason, Stan enjoyed doing it anyway. Richie retaliated and and yet another water war had begun.

Y/n wore a smile as bright and warm as the sun above her as she looked around at her new friends, more than grateful she had fallen down the steps and met these boys. Y/n chuckled at their antics, grabbing Eddie's attention. He hadn't realized he had been staring until she turned to meet his eye. His first instinct was to pretend he hadn't been looking but instead he broke eye contact briefly and chuckled weakly and he smiled at her.

Y/n didn't seem to mind, and she smiled back and her shoulders moved slightly as she chuckled.

"It's okay," His pulse quickened, scared she was speaking of his staring. "I won't splash you anymore,"

He chuckled and nodded slightly, words failing him. He directed his attention to Richie and Stan and her gaze followed. They were both struggling to submerge the other under the water, past them, Bill and Beverly watched equally amused.

Y/n yelped when she felt a small nip on her foot and she quickly retracted her leg. Oh, come on! She swam backwards, eyes scanning the water though it proved to be useless. The others joined her side, worried expressions on their faces.

"W-what happened?"

"What's wrong?"

Eddie, who looked particularly worried and rather startled, knowing he would regret going swimming one way or another, began scanning the water backing up.

"What! What is it?"

"I think something bit me!"

Everyone began shifting around the water and Ben, with a burst of bravery, disappeared under the water and began searching.

Y/n was curious as to why these kids heard about something lurking in the water and biting and somehow thinking it was worth exploring, but a part of her was curious too. Bill soon joined the boy underwater and Y/n had almost begun to grow worried when Bill popped back up, pointing where Y/n had been.

"It's a turtle!"

×××

Not long after they kids found the turtle lurking at the bottom of the quarry, their skin began to prune and their limbs grew tired from swimming.

The boys, who had come prepared with Bill's boombox and Eddie's towels, the kids had dried off. The boys had all found a spot on the rocks and after much persuasion, Beverly had convinced Y/n to sunbathe with her.

Her confidence from earlier had waned, but at the time, the boys were far too distracted fighting over the radio channels and what they wanted it on.

Tuning out the guys, Y/n allowed herself the distraction Beverly provided with small talk. The two had been laughing about the day's events and Y/n had even begun to drift off. She hadn't realized how tired she was until she had lied down. After all, she had only gotten roughly three hours sleep the prior night and her limbs had grown exhausted from swimming all day, her leg especially.

Unaware of how much time had passed, Y/n stirred awake when she realized the lyrics of Young MC's Bust A Move had slipped into her subconscious.

"These here's a jam for all the fellas, Tryin' to do what those ladies tell us,"

Stan, Richie, Ben and Bill look on in disbelief at the two beautiful girls sunbathing before them. How did this happen, they wondered.

"Get shot down cause ya overzealous, Play hard to get females get jealous,"

Eddie, who had yet to find a seat, stood frozen next to the guys. He blinked several times, trying desperately to look anywhere but their direction, Y/n especially, though he couldn't help but steal a few glances. An act he felt ashamed of.

"Okay smarty, go to a party, Girls are scantily clad and showin' body"

Y/n felt a yawn escape her and she covered her mouth with the back of her hand out of habit, her eyelids fluttering open. She had to squint, her eyes readjusting to the light and her stomach did a small flip when she felt several pairs of eyes in her direction.

Timidly, she turned her head slightly to see the boys all staring at them. She felt her skin flush and she was sure she had turned pink, but the boys seemed even more mortified and they looked away, pretending not to have been staring at them.

Beverly's attention was drawn by the noise of several throats clearing, and she was aware of how silent it had been. She tilted her head and made eye contact with Y/n, giving her a knowing look from behind her sunglasses accompanied by a small smirk.

Y/n sat up, her bad leg stretched out and she pulled her other leg close to her chest, while Beverly had rolled on to her stomach. Richie began digging though Ben's stuff, holding a fake microphone to his face.

"News flash, Ben," he was now speaking in his posh reporter persona. "School's out for summa!"

"Oh, that?" Ben asked, looking at the evidence he had collected from the library. "That's not school stuff."

Richie pulled out a postcard of Derry, a picture of the standpipe on the back. "Who sent you this?"

Before he could read what was written on the other side, Ben had snatched it back. "No one. Give it..."

Richie didn't think much of it, his attention fell to the blue folder sticking out of Ben's backpack and he eagerly pulled the folder out.

He opened it up, Stan and Eddie peeking over his shoulder to take a look.

"What's with the history project?" Eddie asked, curiously.

"Oh," Ben shrugged looking around at the group who was now listening intently. "When I first moved her, I didn't have anyone to hang out with,"

As Ben spoke, Richie handed the folder to Bill who had shown interest.

"so I just started spending time in the library."

"You went to the library?" Asked Richie, his face scrunched up in confusion. "On purpose."

Y/n scoffed. "Don't listen to him Ben, he's just insecure that he can't read above a fourth grade level."

She sent Richie and smirk and a wink, knowing full well of his intellectual capabilities. Something she had picked up in the year spent in class with him. He was in fact a very bright kid, despite his poor manners and his inability to not speak out of turn. Richie just rolled his eyes.

"Well, I wanna see." Beverly got up from her spot on her towel and took a seat next to Bill.

Stan had caught a glimpse of the scratchy handwriting on the old photograph Bill and Bev were looking at.

"What's the Black Spot?" He asked.

"The Black Spot was a nightclub that burned down years ago by that racist cult."

"The what?"

"Don't you watch Geraldo?"

Y/n chuckled at the utter disbelief and surprise on Eddie's face and Richie met her eye, joining in. He was just about to give him more grief when the pair heard Bill begin speak.

"Y-y-your hair..." He had been talking to Beverly, but Y/n couldn't help but listen in, curious herself to why her friend had cut it.

Before he could finish, Ben jumped in and Beverly peered over to meet his eye. He smiled warmly at her.

"Your... Your hair is beautiful, Beverly."

Her face had been neutral throughout the entire exchange but she smiled politely at the boy, tucking a loose curl behind her ear.

"Oh, right. Thanks."

No one but Y/n seemed to notice the awkward looks exchanged between Ben and Bill, and her lips pressed into a firm line, feeling awkward having witnessed this herself.

Richie, whose attention was still on the folder that was now going unread by Bill, gestured for it.

"Here, pass it."

Bill complied, folding it up and passed it back to Richie. Y/n used her hands to shift herself up onto her feet, walked over and took a seat across from Eddie, facing everyone in the group. Richie was now shifting through the folder, Stan leaning over his shoulder for a look.

"Why is it all murders and missing kids?" Richie asked, passing the folder to Stan.

Y/n, who had shifted off her bad leg, readjusting so she was leaning on her arms and her legs outstretched in front of her, was now listening intently to Ben.

"Derry's not like any town I've ever been in before. They did a study once, and it turns out, people die or disappear six times the national average."

Everyone had been listening, and the group all fell silent for a brief moment, a quiet shock falling over them. Bev was first to break the silence.

"You read that?"

Ben shifted on the rocks, ever so slightly, and nodded. "And that's just grown-ups. Kids are worse. Way, way worse."

Y/n's eyes had fallen from Ben to the ground, where they trailed over to he bandaged ankle and she gulped.

"I've got more stuff if you wanna see it." Ben offered.

Eddie's gaze, which had been worriedly fixed on Y/n and the frowned etched on her face, was torn away to the others, shaking his head 'no' and hoping they didn't say yes.

They did.


	6. • Fright Night •

The children, all seven of them now dry and dressed, coast down the street on their bikes, Ben in the lead.

Ben, Y/n noticed, seemed in an awfully big hurry to get inside first. They had all ditched their bikes on the front lawn of the Hanscom residence and sped inside after Ben, eager not to lose his trail. Though Y/n and Richie lingered behind when Eddie had tripped and fallen over Richie's bike. Each of them had been in such a hurry of their own to catch up with the rest, they had failed to notice the woman on the corner of the street, who was stapling a missing poster of Patrick Hockstetter to the telephone pole.

When the kids reached the open door at the end of the hall, they could only assume it belonged to Ben. As they entered, their previous conversations died down as their eyes fell on his walls. Dozens upon dozens of pages, much like the ones in his folder littered each wall.

"Wow," Richie breathed.

Ben smiled, shifting on his feet excitedly with pride swelling in his chest. "Cool, huh?"

Richie reached the end of the room, readjusting his glasses with a thoughtful look on his face.

"No, no, nothing cool," Y/n felt guilty for the quiet chuckle she released at Richie's remark. "There's nothing cool."

Richie stepped closer to the wall, adjusting his glasses squinting over so slightly.

"This is cool, right here," he feigned a sigh. "Wait, no. No, it's not cool,"

Y/n chuckled once more, lightly whacking Richie on the arm as she joined him and Eddie by the wall. Ben stepped out of the way to make room for her and he looked across the room at Beverly, who was mindfully traveling the walls, soaking up all the information provided.

Stan had joined Y/n, Richie, and Eddie by Ben's dresser, a curious look on his face. He gestured to a particularly long piece of copy paper, with several things circled and written in red ink.

Ben returned his gaze to the wall, and back at Stan.

"Oh, that? That's the charter for Derry Township."

Richie scoffed, smirking at Eddie and Y/n.

"Nerd alert."

Ben simply shrugged it off. "No, actually, it's pretty interesting."

Y/n smiled at this and nodded impressed with Ben.

"Derry started as a beaver trapping camp,"

"Still is, am I right fellas?" Richie asked, a smirk on his lips and his hand outstretched waiting for a high five.

No one reciprocated, though Stan did give him a disapproving shake of the head.

Her eyes scanned the walls, and she felt the mood shift to that of uncertainty and she could almost feel a weight sitting upon her shoulders. Y/n hadn't realized just how many missing kid posters were hung up and she felt herself grow uneasy, and the pit in her stomach only grew as Ben continued unfazed by Richie.

"Ninety-one people signed the charter that made Derry. But, later that winter, they all disappeared without a trace."

"The entire camp?" Eddie asked in disbelief.

Y/n was still transfixed on the papers tacked onto the wall, though still very much tuned into the conversation.

"There were rumors of Indians, but no signs of an attack."

The rag clad girl gulped as her eyes landed on illustration depicting the signing of the town charter. The knot in her stomach tightened and she felt a wave of nerves and nausea though she could not say why. Something about the illustration bothered her and made her hair stand on end. Something that churned her stomach and drained the color from her skin. Something, she still could quite put her finger on.

"Everybody just thought it was a plague or something. But it's like, one day everybody just woke up and left. The only clue was a trail of bloody clothes leading to the well house,"

Y/n's eyes flickered to the illustration of the wellhouse, but they didn't linger long. Her attention returned to the signing of the town charter when Richie spoke up.

"Jesus. We can get Derry on Unsolved Mysteries."

Ben thought he heard the creaking of a door and he turned around quickly. Sure enough, Beverly had nearly closed his bedroom door, silently revealing his New Kids On The Block poster and he felt as if he might die. He sent her a pleading look, almost certain his face was completely pink, and a small smirk found its way onto her face. She returned the door to its original position without another word, hiding the poster where it would remain their little secret.

Taking advantage of Ben's diverted attention, Stan turned to Richie, Eddie and Y/n in a hushed whisper.

"Why is he showing us this stuff?"

Y/n was finally pulled from her quizzical trance and directed her attention back to the boys. Richie shrugged, also speaking in something of a whisper.

"Maybe he's just trying to make some friends, Stanley."

Bill, who had been drawn in by a small selection of slides on Ben's desk, spoke up for the first time since they had arrived.

"Where was the well house?"

Everyone turned to face Ben. Y/n noticed that Eddie had picked up a bottle of what must have been cologne, and took a big whiff. The strong smell caught him off guard and Y/n smiled mischievously. She quickly and lightly smacked her palm against the bottom of the bottle, bumping it against his face and nearly knocking it out of his grasp. Some of its contents flew up against the glass and splashed his nose leaving droplets on his face as well as the rim of the bottle and she snickered.

"I don't know," Ben answered, shrugging. "Somewhere in town, I guess. Why?"

Feverishly, Eddie wiped his face. His nose was scrunched up in disgust, unable to escape the strong and overpowering musk that clung to his nose.

Bill, who like the other kids - save for Richie who caught the tail end of Y/n's little trick and was hiding laughter of his own - had not noticed Eddie's discomfort. His lips pressed into a firm line and he looked away distracted with thoughts of his own.

×××

Eddie turned the corner passing the old church, his feet carrying him down Neibolt Street. His backpack clutched tight, he brought his hands up to his mouth, hoping he could still do the trick he had been so proud to learn.

Sure enough, he managed a few discernible notes. But the tune he held and all desire to practice the skill died down as he approached the familiar broken down house at the end of the block. Everything around it was either dead or dying and if one were to look at that and only that lot they'd think it was mid-October. His Mama always warned him against that house and going anywhere near it.

No good could come from it Eddie Bear, no good. God forbid you ever find yourself around that house, or any one like it, you just keep to yourself and you keep on walking, you hear me, Eddie? You keep on walking. Places like that are a hotspot for death and disease and you'd be making a fool outta me if you do otherwise. Now tell me, is your mama a fool Eddie?

"No, Ma."

"Good boy,"

He could hear her scolding him even now as clear as if she was standing next to him. He could not say why he had stopped just outside the house, perhaps it was the memory of her warning him against such things or the way the house seemed to cast a shadow over the whole street but he found himself in a daze unable to move.

Channeling his mother and her fearful worried cries, the stopwatch beeped rhythmically on his wrist as if telling him, "Keep on walking! Keep on walking! Keep on walking!" He brought himself out of his trance and the stopwatch, not unlike his mother, was now wailing at him, reminding him it was time for his afternoon pill.

He unzipped his fanny pack, his small hands dug through its contents for the familiar plastic container. Popping open the cap, he grabbed the pill in his hands and raised it to his lips but he felt himself stiffen at the creek of an old door. He watched frozen as the front door of the dreaded house on Neibolt sat wide open.

He knew it wasn't open before, he was sure of it. Nevertheless, it was wide open and it was so dark inside the house it seemed to swallow up all light that entered. He could hear a bone-chilling voice echoing in the back of his mind, calling out to him.

Eddie.

His eyes remained on the front door, almost too afraid that if he looked away something would swallow him up. The voice he believed to be from the darkest depths of his twisted imagination continued.

What are you looking for?

But his mother's shrill voice was louder in his subconscious and he had never been so thankful.

No good can come from it, Eddie Bear. No good. Keep on walking!

Thankful to be pulled from his trance he tore his gaze away from the house and continued on. He opened up his fanny pack, his hands still trembling. Unfortunately, the container slipped from his sweaty hands and hit the pavement cracking it open. All his meds spilled out onto the dirty concrete and he cursed himself.

"Fuck. Mom's gonna fucking flip."

Eddie picked up far too many pills to carry and he quickly crawled forward, grabbing the blue container to hold them all. He could already hear his mother's lecture that would come.

Do you have any idea how expensive these are Eddie? And you might as well have chucked 'em down the drain! You need them, Eddie! You know how fragile you are, how could you be so careless?

Nine, ten, eleven, twelve, he had picked up nearly all of his pills, not bothering to sort them in the container. He followed them like a trail of breadcrumbs, plucking them up and quickly discarding them into the container one by one. He reached for the last remaining capsule, it's bright red hue making it easy to spot on the grey concrete.

The last thing he expected was a long, discolored and bony hand with blackened nails wrap around the pill. The hand was shaking as much Eddie's was and it slowly raised the capsule in front of his face. The hand was wrapped poorly in a dirty cloth, and Eddie realized it wasn't just the fingernails that were black but nearly all of the fingers. It was curled around the pill, and Eddie could swear he saw every bone.

The same raspy voice from before was now loud and clear.

"Do you think this will help me, Eddie?"

The figure attached to the hand leaned forward suddenly, giving Eddie a look at Its horribly disfigured face for the first time. It was a leper, Eddie recognized. Its face was a sickly grey, bulbous pink warts bubbled on the grey skin that hung off Its face. One of Its eyes was completely rotted and drool dribbled from Its chin and if Eddie had to pick what was most jarring to see, it was the shriveled up slit where Its nose was supposed to be.

The first breath of air Eddie managed to get was the sharp gasp that left his mouth. He tumbled onto his back, his pills now completely forgotten. He scrambled away though his limbs felt like they were made of lead and no matter how much he tried he couldn't seem to go fast enough. The leper could barely balance properly, and It's twig thin legs wobbled as It walked. He charged forward after Eddie. Eddie hadn't realized he had been heading in the direction of the Neibolt house until he felt the crunch of dead grass beneath his palms.

All he could see apart from the drooling figure was the blinding sun poking from behind the leper's head. Scrounging up every ounce of energy he could muster Eddie jumped back, somehow able to mind the rusted iron gate.

The leper lurched for Eddie once more, swiping Its frail arm at him. Miraculously, Eddie was able to dodge the attack and he scrambled to his feet. He had to pull his legs up high as he ran to keep from tripping over the tall grass. The leper growled and Eddie zipped through the yard at a speed he didn't know he had. But it didn't matter, the leper was still hot on his trail, swinging Its arms back and forth as he sped after him.

His fearful cries ripped from his throat as he ran around the side of the house.

"Help! Help!"

Much to his horror, Eddie felt himself lose his balance and he tumbled to the ground and the momentum rolled him forward across the grass. The leper was closing in and he scrambled to his feet once more, he risked the chance of capture and spared a glance behind him. The leper swiped at him and Eddie yelped in fear.

Eddie thought he spotted a small hole in the fence just behind the shrubbery and he thanked any all-knowing force in the universe he had an exit. He feverishly swiped at the shrubbery, trying desperately to get by. But the leper must be inches away from him by now, his head whipped around and he unexpectedly stopped. What he saw made him stop in his tracks even though everything in screamed to move but the sight was all too strange he wasn't sure if he was hallucinating or not.

The leper was gone and just across the yard a tall and lanky figure. It was dressed in a silver puffy suit, with bright orange pom-poms and it looked to be from across many different decades. But of course, the shocking image that mystified Eddie was the array of blood-red balloons that formed an upside-down triangle that defied the laws of physics. Its head was hidden behind the singular balloon at the base of the pyramid.

The balloon simultaneously slowly rose, revealing the face of a clown. It was pale white apart from his lips that were painted blood red and the edge of his lips trailed up all the way above his brows, bisecting each yellow eye. He had three large tufts of orange hair and his forehead was chipped and cracking like cheap paint. The clown stared at Eddie, hatred in his eyes.

And yet, the clown's lips curled up into a smile, his bottom lip making a sharp 'v' revealing large buck teeth that reminded Eddie of a rabbit's.

"Where ya goin' Eds? If you lived here, you'd be home by now."

When the clown spoke, Eddie felt as if all that was good and pure in the world had shriveled up and died and he felt his stomach plummet. It was a gravelly and squeaky voice, a voice that chilled him to the bone.

He gulped in fear and Eddie felt the absence of air in his lungs and he had no idea if it was his asthma or the fear that gripped his heart. As if sensing this, the clown's smile grew, a feat Eddie hadn't previously thought possible.

"Come and join the clown, Eds. You'll float down here. We all float down here. Yes, we do."

The clown shook It's head, speaking in a voice that might remind one of someone speaking down to a dog. A sharp and squeaky cackle left the clown's mouth, startling Eddie out of his trance. He returned his attention to the shrubbery, desperately swiping aside the thin branches blocking him from the fence. A scream ripped from his throat in a combination of fear and hope that someone would hear him.

Eddie scrambled for the hole in the fence, for once in his life not concerned about the possibility of any damage he might take in the process. He felt dirt and pebbles wedge into his the creases of his knees but nothing compared to the dangerous hammering of his heart against his chest. The sounds of thousands of balloons popping grabbed his attention once more and he glanced over his shoulder to see nothing but an empty yard.

×××

Beverly closed the front door behind her, she made her way to the end of the hallway towards her bedroom. The entire apartment was quiet, and the only sounds that carried down the halls were the rattling of the old fan in the living room. She took a seat on her bed, opening up her bag she had taken to the quarry. She unzipped the main pocket and began sifting through her belongings when she heard something tumble to the ground. Curious, she picked it up.

It was a postcard of Derry. Someone must have slipped it into her bag at the quarry. Beverly flipped the postcard over to find a little note etched in pencil.

To: Beverly  
From: Secret Admirer

That was all she allowed herself to read before she stood from her bed and retreated to the bathroom, the only safe space in the house. Her heart was aflutter as she closed the door behind her, locking it. 

Bev took another lingering look at the front of the postcard and the sound of her boot heels clicked against the tile as she headed for the bathtub. She lowered herself into the mint green tub, her legs dangling over the side and she rested her back against the other side.

She held the postcard up to the light, excitedly. A smile tugged at her lips as she read the scratchy handwriting. She read aloud in a quiet whisper, and she felt a warmth spread through her chest and her stomach did flips. Not the kind she was used to, this was a giddy feeling and she never knew she could experience such a beautiful feeling.

"Your hair is winter fire, January Embers, My heart burns there too,"

Beverly was certain she had never smiled so hard. She read the poem once more, making sure she wasn't imagining it and she brought it close to her heart.

"Beverly,"

Bev frowned, and her attention was drawn across the room. All she could hear at the moment was the sound water droplets falling from the faucet and into the drain. She couldn't help but wonder if she had imagined it. Right on cue, the voice spoke again, calling out her name and she was almost certain it was coming from the drain in the sink.

"Help me,"

It sounded like a familiar female voice. Y/n? No, it couldn't be, that wouldn't make any sense. Then again, none of this did. Cautiously, she rose from the tub and inched towards the sink.

"Help me, please" the voice spoke again, this time in a harsh whisper.

She slowly approached the sink to examine it. Her heartbeat was still fairly slow, though it pounded against her ribcage and it was forceful. The voice from the drain continued, though now it was accompanied by a few other voices, all of which sounded fairly young.

"We all want to meet you, Beverly. We all float down here"

Maybe this was all a dream. She was imagining the whole thing, including the postcard. The poem seemed much too good to be true anyway. And yet, curiosity still drew her in.

"Hello? Who are you?" She asked, peering down the drain.

"I'm Veronica."

"Betty Ripsom."

"Patrick Hockstetter."

She leaned closer, racking her brain for some kind of explanation as to what could possibly explain this. Maybe if she could see them. Maybe they got stuck below the apartment building somehow and were communicating through the pipes? It was a long shot and it didn't make much sense, but again, none of this did. The voices seemed to have read her mind and they spoke once more, encouraging her.

"Come closer." One said.

"Wanna see?" Another asked.

"We float."

"We change." The last voice grew deep and hoarse, and it let out a distorted giggle that echoed through the pipes.

A tape measure, it just might work. Beverly thought she last saw it in the living room. Where her father was. Well, hopefully, she could sneak in and grab it without him waking up. The last thing she needed was being bombarded with a bunch of questions she herself couldn't answer.

Beverly crept into the hallway, careful to avoid the squeaky floorboard near the corner's edge. When she approached the living room, the sound of the rattling fan and the static of the television set grew louder. Her father was still fast asleep, past out in front of the TV, beer cans on the side table. But just across the room sat the tape measure.

When she returned to the bathroom, she closed the door behind her gently once more, neglecting to lock it. She stood above the sink, tape measure in hand, and the bathroom now silent as a tomb. Extending the end of the yellow coil, it snaked further and further down the drain. She extended the measure until her fingers touched the sink, expecting a dull thud from the curve of the pipes but none came. Further and further down it went, defying the shape of the pipes. Finally, to her relief, she felt a thud, and a small metallic clang echoed up the drain.

Beverly sighed and began reeling in the tape, up and up, and up some more. It had nearly reached the rim of the drain when Beverly noticed a change in color. The yellow strip blended into a bright red hue and she grimaced when she found the tape measure was now covered in blood. It was restricted by a thick rope of hair that was tangled around the lip, making it harder for Beverly to retract it and she grimaced at the ugly sight.

Clumps of blood were threaded through the strands and it knotted at the ends where it gripped the blade. Beverly was too slow and vastly unprepared to rip her hand away from the unexpected attack. Strands of hair whipped out and curled around her hand and wrist. The tape measure dropped into the sink making a loud clang, though it was quickly drowned out by Beverly's frightened screams.

Beverly was pulled closed to the sink no matter how hard she fought. Her other wrist was quickly restrained in another lock of sentient hair and she grunted trying to escape its strength. Bev felt her throat grow raw from the screams that erupted from her throat. Twines of hair coiled around her neck, pulling her closer. Thick tendrils of hair burst from the drain and wrapped firmly around her head and curling around her face. She felt the hair grow and wrap around her body, restraining her legs so it was impossible to run away.

"Daddy! Help!"

Her words were barely discernible as they were lost in her screams but she knew that didn't matter. The hair pulled tighter and she was jerked harshly towards the drain. The hair was now sprawled all across her face like roots spreading in every direction. Her voice never wavered and her screams grew harsher if at all possible.

A dark red substance bubbled up from the drain and oozed out into the sink. It was blood so dark it was almost black and it was thick and slow but it bubbled like a stew being brought to a boil. Before her brain could instruct her mouth to close, gallons and gallons of blood spewed from the drain like a guiser. Her mouth was filled with the metallic taste and she felt every inch of her skin soaked in blood. It splashed off her face and hit the walls around her.

It reached every corner and crevice of the room, it even splattered across her poem. The current of blood was so strong it moved the glass lampshade of the light above the sink. The pressure of the blast stung her face and the blood stung her eyes.

Finally, the grip on her body loosened and she was able to wiggle free. She stumbled back and crashed on the slippery floor. Her screams withered into weak whimpers of fear and she felt her feet and hands slipped out from under her several times. Her heart felt as if it would explode in her chest and she never stopped scrambling until she felt her back hit the wall. She cowered in fear, her whole body was trembling and the blood was still gushing from the sink like a hose.

Beverly closed her eyes and sobs shook her body. The blood had finally stopped and she barely registered the sound of the hair slithering back down the drain. Her sobs turned into weak screams and she was still wailing when her father swung the down open.

"The hell's going on?" He asked.

He looked more annoyed than concerned and he looked at her, waiting for an answer.

"T-t-the sink..." her lips quivered and she looked desperately around the room. "And the b-b-blood... I-it's..."

"What blood?"

She gaped at him and she tried not to open her eyes too wide, lest more blood sting her eyes.

"T-the s-sink. You d-don't see it?"

Her words were lost in her shaky breaths. No matter how hard she tried to get the words out, only incoherent mumbles tumbled out.

Her father knelt down before her, and he tilted his head.

"You worry me, Bevvie." He looked her up and down, and he clicked his tongue. "You worry me a lot."

She stared at him astonished, thankful she had gathered enough composure to get a sentence out. Her voice quivered and it came out in a hoarse whisper, sore from the screaming.

"But don't you see?"

He frowned distastefully and brushed away her bangs.

"Why'd you do this to your hair? Makes you look like a boy."

His voice was filled with disappointment and disgust. He gave her one more once over. He rose to his feet and left the bathroom, closing the door behind him and leaving behind a sobbing Beverly.

×××

All was quiet in the Denbrough residence. The only signs of life came from Bill's room, his small bedside lamp was on and he lays in bed, watercolor pencil in hand. The leak in his ceiling had dampened once more and droplets of rainwater fell onto his sketchbook. It was opened next to his pillow where he had created a rough but accurate sketch of Beverly Marsh with her new haircut.

The rainwater had landed on the shading of her hair created a small red splatter that reminded Bill of blood. He frowned, knowing he had to get up from his warm bed and go across the hall to retrieve the bucket they kept in the closet for these such occasions. The soft lamplight poured lightly into the hallway becoming his only source of light. Thankfully though, Bill's eyes had somewhat adjusted to the dark.

Bill felt the familiar dull ache in his heart when his eyes flickered to his brother's bedroom door. It had not been touched since Georgie's disappearance, apart from the times Bill had come in to silently grieve. It was still open a crack just as he had left it from his last visit. He cast the saddening thoughts from his brain, not allowing himself the emotional toll.

Bill retrieved the bucket from the lower shelf, remembering where he had placed it from the last leak. He was sure to close the closet door quietly as to not wake his parents and he heard his feet patter against the hardwood floor.

CLICK

Bill froze. He recognized the sound as Georgie's bedside lamp but it took seconds for his brain to register that as unusual. Bill looked over his shoulder to find a soft light flooding out into the hall from his brother's room. He set the metal bucket down, it made a quiet clang, and cautiously he crept forward. Perhaps one of his parents had come to grieve? That couldn't be. To Bill, that was just as likely as flying pigs, because ever since Georgie's disappearance, both of his parents refused to talk about him. It's like they had always had just one child.

With cautious steps, he entered his brother's room. He felt the heavy weight settle back onto his heart and chest, the room looked exactly how Georgie had left it. Bill felt all sense of caution and tension vanish as he stepped into his brother's room. All of Georgie's toys and trinkets where right where he left them. Even the turtle he built with Bill.

With a heavy heart, Bill crossed the room to pick up the turtle and he took a seat on his brother's bed. He felt a familiar lump in his throat and sting in his eyes, and yet no tears came. Bill had shed them all. He was so swept up in the overwhelming floodgate memories of his younger brother, he failed to notice the silhouette of Georgie being cast onto the door from the hall, watching him. It turned and fled and only then was Bill pulled from his thoughts when he heard the sound of wet galoshes scurrying down the hall.

The boy rose to his feet, the turtle still clutched tightly in his hands. It gave him an odd sense of comfort that he could not explain and he followed the footsteps all the way downstairs. When he reached the entryway Bill tensed when he saw the living room light had been on, like it had been waiting for him. He stood across from the kitchen, moonlight was spilling from the skylight and it cast a pale green light on the tile floor. The sound of squeaky footsteps had stopped and so did he.

A sharp, piercing beep rang in his ears, startling him, much like it had for Georgie the day that he died. But Bill saw a small figure, dressed in a familiar yellow rain slicker dart across the end of the kitchen and into the cellar. The sudden sight startled Bill and the plastic turtle he forgot he had been carrying fell to the floor, shattering into its original pieces.

"G-Georgie." The name left his tongue in a weak whisper and yet it felt foreign.

Like it didn't belong to the youngest Denbrough boy.

Bill could hear the blood pounding in his ears but he followed the figure. He hesitated when he reached the cellar door, his gut screaming at him to turn around and go to bed and forget the whole thing. But Bill couldn't, not when there was even a chance he could see Georgie again.

Bill tried not to let the creaking of the old cellar stairs add to his nerves, though it didn't help. The basement had flooded, Bill realized. Moonlight from the cellar windows had spilled into the room, hitting the water and casting an ominous glow that danced along the walls. Bill heard a disturbance in the water, he could hear the water sloshing around and the noise brought his attention to the sight of his little brother hiding behind a shelf.

Bill couldn't believe it. Georgie looked exactly as Bill remembered, the very same bright yellow rain slicker and matching galoshes. Even his hood was up, just as it had been when he waved Bill goodbye. Georgie looked to Bill, with the very same big doe eyes and spoke in a whisper Bill could barely hear.

"I lost it, Billy. Don't be mad."

Bill felt the grip on his heart grow tighter and he struggled to swallow the lump forming in his throat. He knew, even if by some chance he had never left his bed and he was still curled up safe and sound, dreaming he was seeing Georgie again, he would regret not speaking to him.

"I-I'm not mad at you."

The moonlight bouncing off the surface of the water illuminated Georgie's paled face in waves. He was hugging the wall, and his head was tilted down like he had been gazing at the reflecting pool. He wore a smirk but it didn't look or feel right to Bill. His brother's eyes were dark and the smirk held a malicious glint. Bill could see that this Georgie was as real as he was but when he looked at him, he felt as if he was looking at a ghost.

In a way, he was.

Georgie stalked forward, creeping around the corner of the shelf.

"It just floated off." His voice was barely audible above his breath and he stared at Bill. "But, Bill, if you'll come with me, you'll float, too."

"Georgie,"

Bill's voice came out in a weak plea, though he did not know what he was pleading for. Georgie's smile widened and it didn't sit well with Bill.

"You'll float, too." Georgie giggled, and his voice began increasingly gradually in volume. "You'll float, too. You'll float, too. You'll float, too. You'll float, too."

His entire demeanor changed, he wore a scowl and his face began to rot. His voice deepened into a demonic growl and his chanting increased.

"You'll float, too. You'll float, too." A large bulbous head emerged from the water beside Georgie's feet that Bill almost missed. "You'll float, too. You'll float, too. You'll float, too! You'll float, too!"

The large swollen head now had it's pointed chin just above the water. Dark hair clung to its distorted forehead, it's glowing eyes were pointed in different directions, one eye on the fake Georgie and one on Bill. It was mouthing along to Georgie's unsettling chant as one might lip-sync to their favorite song. It was mocking Bill.

"You'll float, too! You'll float, too! You'll float, too! You'll float, too!"

The clown, Bill realized it was, had an arm up Georgie's back, much like a puppeteer would on its puppet. The next words to be spoken came from the clown, in a shrill demented shriek and he shoved Georgie into the water as he did so.

"You'll float, too!"

Georgie's tiny, now rotted body, hit the surface of the water with a giant splash. The face glared at Bill for a brief fleeting moment, before it burst forth from the water, charging after him. A terrible shriek erupted from the clown and it twisted violently as it flew after Bill.

Not daring to waste another precious second, Bill turned and sped up the cellar stairs. He ripped open the door and slammed it shut after him, not caring if the noise woke his parents.

The clown landed on the cellar landing, grinning maliciously up at where Bill disappeared. With one last hungry look, Its eyes rolled back into Its head and It slithered back into the murky depths of the basement. 

×××

Y/n's head shot up for the fourth time in the past hour, and she blinked several times. She lay on her couch, her favorite quilt draped around her shoulders. Y/n looked at the ticking clock on the wall above the TV and sighed, rubbing her eyes and the dark circles underneath them. The moment she feared had come.

She had put off her attempts at sleep for as long as she could in front of the TV. She now feared sleep, afraid of allowing herself the vulnerability she was in when she was attacked. She had nodded off a few times on the couch, her head rolling on her shoulders only to be awakened by the cheering of the audience as Johnny Carson welcomed a new guest to the stage. Fearing the possibility of another nightmare like the one only nights earlier - a lie she told herself to stay sane, even though she knew deep down it had been very real - she rose from the couch and crossed the living room to turn up the volume hoping it would keep her from drifting.

It didn't, had she not adjusted the set, Beverly's screams from upstairs would have woken her. Instead, she had nodded off, her feet tucked tightly under the quilt, and the blood-curdling screams were drowned out by the bustling late-night television program and her unconscious mind. That was until roughly an hour later she had been woken up by a sharp whistled from the cheering crowd as Johnny Carson signed off.

Y/n switched off the TV set, the low hum brought a quiet ambiance to the room as the screen dimmed. She stood on the tips of her toes, ignoring the dull throbbing in her left ankle as she reached for the metal chain of the ceiling fan light. She cursed herself for not leaving the hall light on before turning everything off in the living room, now she had to rush down the hall to the safety of her room before her imagination got the best of her.

Lights now on and the door shut tight, Y/n trudged across her room to her bed and shed her clothes. She had completely forgotten that she had been wearing her bathing suit underneath and she was reminded of the day's events. Her eyes wandered to the mirror across the room and she found that she had been smiling. Y/n had not expected to have as much fun as she did. And it had not been Beverly so much as it was the Tozier boy who had brought her out of her shell.

While it was true they had known one another for at least a year, and they only just really interacted, it felt as if she knew him a lifetime. In fact, during her time at the quarry, she felt as if she had known each of them for a lifetime. Like some cosmic force in the universe had always meant for these seven misfits - these losers - to meet and form an unbreakable bond. And yet, it felt as if there was something - or someone missing - like the last piece of the puzzle and it filled Y/n with a sense of hope. Hope for good things to come - new memories to be made.

Y/n, who had peeled off her bathing suit and exchanged it for a fresh pair of underwear and an oversized t-shirt, slipped under her covers and snuggled into her pillow. And it was the new and budding sense of warmth spreading in her chest that replaced the icy grip of fear that allowed her to turn off her bedside lamp in peace. A darkness fell over her room, and her mind replayed the joyous memories of the day like a slideshow in her mind.

The chicken fight with Richie "the trash mouth" Tozier and his cheeky remarks. The new kid, Ben Hanscom, and his kind and soft-spoken nature that brought a peaceful presence to the energetic group dynamic. She enjoyed the sarcastic remarks of Stan Uris and getting to know him and watch as walls of his own slowly came down throughout the day. The effect of comradery that Bill Denbrough so effortlessly instilled into the group. And of course, she enjoyed the company and stable feeling Beverly gifted to her, grateful she had overcome her fears and joined the fun, defying the little green monster that loved to tear her down.

And of course, the kind and quirky boy, Eddie Kaspbrak, who had been nice enough to bandage her leg that day in the alley. She could tell he was a very hyper boy, with a great deal of energy bouncing around in that unusually small stature of his. And he had a very odd habit of staring, she noticed. But nevertheless, he had a knack for making her smile. She was smiling even now, eyes closed and curled under her blankets - despite it being another hot summer night, she made sure to take extra precaution, toes tucked in and safe, just in case.

A weak laugh escaped her, though her body had grown so tired one might have mistaken it for an exhale. Her mind had wandered to the little prank she had pulled and how enduring Eddie had looked when his nose was scrunched up from the splash of cologne. And she was of course very grateful he was willing to jump with her when she was hesitant. And something she had not admitted to herself until now was the small flutter in her stomach when she interacted with Eddie. From his kind offer of taking the leap together, to the sportsmanship exchanged between them during the chicken fight. And though she had pretended not to have noticed, she had, in fact, caught the glimpses the hypochondriac boy had stolen while she had been sunbathing.

The way he looked at her gave her butterflies, not while sunbathing, but innocent moments that made up the bliss of childhood. While she had been caught in an unflattering belly laugh from one of Richie's jokes, he smiled fondly at her. Or even after she had snuck up on him in the water and splashed him, he still had beaming smile and mischief in his eyes. 

The way Eddie Kaspbrak looked at Y/n L/n was very different from the way most boys looked at Beverly Marsh.

It was never out of lust, nor was it out of obsession, but admiration. The way one might watch the fireworks on a warm night in July. It was quick and it was fleeting, and you had to be looking at the right moment to catch him, for you see, his adoration for her soon would quickly be replaced by irritation at Richie, or a witty comeback to mask his feelings that even he was denying seeing as it was a foreign concept to him. But Y/n noticed it anyway, and while she brushed it off in the moment, it was times like these in the dead of night and the safety of her own mind that she allowed herself to consider these feelings.

Only once more did she think of the safe feeling Eddie and the other losers brought her before sleep blanketed her conscious. And thus was the first time since her traumatic encounter and her injury that she had enjoyed a peaceful night's sleep.


	7. • Friends Will Be Friends •

Beverly dared not go to Y/n until her father had left for work. The minute he closed the door, she phoned each of the boys and told them her address and to come straight away. The second she was sure his truck had turned the corner, she rushed down the fire escape to the familiar apartment below. Beverly created a rapid series of knocks on the screen door of Y/n's apartment. Seconds later, Y/n approached the door. Beverly could make out the girl's appearance. The bags under her eyes were almost completely gone and she looked brighter than she had been in a while.

Poor Y/n, Bev couldn't help but think. She seemed to have just begun to return to her old self, and now she was about to dump something else entirely into her lap.

"Hey, Bev," Y/n leaned against the now open door, a crooked smile on her lips. "What's up?"

Beverly met Y/n's eye, they were indeed brighter and well-rested, but they shifted slightly in concern. Her smirk began to fade. Bev's eyes flickered to the grated floor beneath her feet before returning to Y/n. A habit she had when she had something important, but very difficult to share with her.

"Bev, what's wrong? What happened?"

Without uttering a word, Beverly gestured for Y/n to follow her up the stairs. Confused, but nevertheless compliant, Y/n stepped out onto the fire escape, closing the door behind her before following Beverly up the steps.

Y/n did not know what to expect when Beverly had taken her upstairs. Her first thought - her first fear - was that Beverly's dad had done something. That he had done something to Beverly, and now she was about to share with Y/n whatever thing the vile man must have done behind closed doors. On the way up and into Beverly's apartment, Y/n had mentally prepared herself for whatever horrible thing Bev had to share.

But she certainly was not expecting to reach the end of the hallway only for Beverly to make a right turn. The bathroom? She looked to Beverly in confusion, her eyebrows raised.

"I don't get it," she chuckled weakly.

Beverly stifled an eye roll and gestured to the door.

"Just," she shifted on her feet, watching the closed door distrustfully.

Y/n gave her friend an odd look before something clicked in her head and she sighed stepping forward and reaching the closed door.

"Oh, geez, Bev is it a spider or something? You know I hate them," She chuckled nervously, hand wrapped around the doorknob and she opened it, her gaze returning to the bathroom. "But you had me thinking something-"

Y/n had lost the ability to speak when her eyes landed on the room, the words lodged in her throat. Beverly stepped forward and stood by Y/n's side. She looked from Y/n's shocked and horrified reaction back to the bathroom. The bloodied windows casting a red glow over the two young girls as they took in the ghastly sight.

Y/n had never seen so much blood in her entire life. It covered every square inch of the bathroom, including the ceiling. It had made itself into every crevice, every nook, and every corner. Within a millisecond upon first glance, she thought it had been paint. But to her horror and great disgust, she knew it was blood. The only thing even remotely normal-looking was the inside of the tub, where someone had showered.

"Thank fuck, you see it too." She sighed, running a hand through her shortened curls, still unused to the feeling of the new length.

"Uh, yeah, well," Y/n was still struggling for words and for a brief moment, she figured this must be how Bill felt.

She swallowed, finally finding her voice. "I-it's kinda hard not to, ya know?"

She chuckled uncomfortably, and looked to Bev, trying to rid herself of her shock.

"Okay, Bev, you know I love you, and you know I trust you, this is just something I have to ask," Beverly rolled her eyes at what came next. "But was anyone murdered here, cause honestly what the fuck else could have happened?"

"Jesus, no, I-" Beverly looked at the bathroom, shaking her head exasperated. "I still don't know what happened, I-"

A heavy sigh escaped Beverly and she buried her face in her hands, rubbing her eyes with her fingers. A vexatious moan was muffled in her palms, frustration and fear all bubbling back up to the top.

Y/n watched in worry and returned her gaze to the bright red bathroom. She could feel bile climbing up her throat and her nose was scrunched up in disgust. The overwhelming stench was clogging up her senses and she could practically taste the blood on her tongue. Refusing to take another breath, she leaned on the side of the door frame for stability as she reached for the doorknob. She didn't dare cross the threshold, much too disgusted and wary of the blood that covered the tile.

Y/n finally took a breath when the door closed. She only left it open a crack in the hopes it would air out in the slightest. She turned to Beverly, laying a hand on her friends back before guiding her back to the living room.

"Let's step outside for a moment. I think you could use some air, I know I sure could."

Beverly's hands fell to her side and she nodded, letting Y/n guide her out onto the fire escape. The pair sat on metal steps, and Beverly took out a hidden cigarette that had been lodged behind her ear. She retrieved the lighter she always carried in her pocket and lit the cigarette that hung from her lips.

By the time Beverly had finished explaining the encounter she had the previous night, the cigarette was nearly out. It had grown quiet between the friends, Beverly soaking up every last breath of the addicting substance while Y/n processed everything. The silence was broken after Bev finally put out her cigarette, and Y/n's cheeks puffed out as she exhaled in thought.

"Damn,"

Beverly nodded, flicking the bud of the cigarette over the rails at the brick wall. Y/n, who had been leaning on her legs, her hands interlaced, turned to Beverly with a concerned glance.

"Shit, we should really move, huh?"

A pathetic but genuine chuckle vibrated through Beverly before silence settled back into the atmosphere. A quizzical look found its way onto Beverly's face and she looked at Y/n.

"In all seriousness, what happened that night? You never did tell me."

Y/n nodded, understanding her friend's curiosity. She had a feeling this was coming, and she took a deep breath, focusing her gaze on the trees in the distance. She relaxed slightly when she spotted three dots emerging from the treetops. It was a small flock of birds and she felt a sense of comfort in the tranquil scenery. It was such a small and simple sight that grounded her back to reality.

"Well, I had just started to go back to sleep." She shook her head slightly and began gesturing her arms out of habit. "The television set was still on, so I got up to turn it off, and"

Her furrowed brows had cemented into a frown, and absentmindedly her hand had traveled down her ankle. Her fingers were fiddling with a loose fray from the ace bandage.

"I drifted off, and for a moment I thought you were trying to wake me up, or something. It felt like you were pulling on my leg, and..." she trailed off, shaking her head and scolding herself for allowing her nerves to return so soon. "Well, obviously it wasn't you..."

Beverly, who had been hanging off of her every word, leaned forward. She was propping herself up on her legs much like Y/n was.

"What was it, Y/n?" Her tone was gentle, a tone she rarely found herself using.

Before Y/n could continue, the faint sound of several bicycle chains interrupted her. As it grew louder, they could hear a familiar boastful and cocky voice that was even louder. Richie Tozier.

Beverly stood up, and looked to Y/n, annoyed at herself for not mentioning to Y/n she had called them.

"I wasn't sure if you would be home or not, so I called the guys." She explained quickly.

At that moment, Y/n recognized the familiar speedy voice and she felt the smallest flutter in her stomach. She nodded, standing to her feet and together the two girls sped down the steps just in time to meet the five boys rounding the corner.

"You made it. I..." Beverly exhaled, looking to each of them. "I need to show you something."

"What is it?" Ben asked.

It was Beverly's turn to get cut off. Before she could form a coherent or vague answer, Richie jumped in.

"More than we saw at the quarry?"

"Fuck off, Richie."

"Shut up, Richie!"

Y/n and Eddie had snapped at Richie at the same time, and he scoffed.

"What are you two, my parole officers or some shit?"

"Might as well get used to having some" Y/n shot back.

Richie opened his mouth to speak, but Beverly spoke up quickly. Letting the comments roll off her back.

"My dad would kill me if he finds out, I had boys in the apartment."

"T-t-then w-we'll leave a lookout." Bill offered. "R-Richie, s-stay here.

"Why don't I stay?" Y/n offered, looking between the boys and to Bev. "He knows me, and that I live here. If he comes back I'll keep him distracted."

"You sure?" Beverly asked carefully.

She was worried about the possibility of Y/n being alone with her father. Not so much that he'd do anything, but Beverly was well aware of how Y/n felt about him. And she had a tendency to speak without thinking when it came to him. With the trouble she had biting her tongue, it was a miracle Beverly was still aloud around her and the reason why they usually stayed at her Y/n's. As much as Beverly secretly loved seeing him baffled at her best friend's remarks, she knew it only caused trouble. Beverly feared what he might do if Y/n went too far when she wasn't there.

But again, it did make sense that if her father were to see anyone lurking around the apartment, it should be his daughter's friend, and not some teenage boy he knew didn't live there.

"I'm sure," Y/n sighed lightly in annoyance and nodded. "And don't worry, I'll try to keep it reeled in as much as I can. And that's if he even gets back before you leave."

Beverly nodded in thanks, relief in her eyes and her demeanor shifted to that of slight urgency. She gestured for the boys, who had been scolding Richie for his boastful remarks that he didn't have to stay. Beverly backed up slightly to the stairs, urging them to follow her. They parked their bikes and passed Y/n to follow Beverly up to the apartment. She felt a hand slap her lightly on the back in passing.

"Thanks, toots" He winked, clicking his tongue.

Y/n watched as Richie herded Eddie up the stairs, provoking the poor boy and Y/n sighed lightly. The group had reached Y/n's floor, and she tried ridding herself of the small flutter in her stomach that Eddie was outside her apartment. She shook her head, annoyed at the feeling and embarrassed the thought ever occurred. Y/n sighed, running her palm down her face in exasperation before she took a seat at the bottom of the steps.

Up in the apartment, the boys followed Beverly through her apartment, and much like Y/n had, they all stopped hesitantly.

"In there," She said quietly.

"What is it?" Stan asked.

Beverly, who was feeling slightly more confident that Y/n had seen it to, gestured weakly to the door. Now slightly worried that would be seeing it.

"You'll see," she answered weakly.

The five boys approached the door, and Eddie began mumbling nervously.

"Are you taking us to your bathroom?" Without waiting for an answer, he continued in a shaky voice. "I just want you to know that eighty-nine percent of worst accidents in homes are caused in bathrooms and I mean that's where all the bacteria and fungi are and it's not a really sanitary place."

"Oh, lighten up Eds. Don't tell me you're afraid of bathrooms, now are ya?"

It was a very rare thing for Richie to regret his words, and it was even rarer for his jokes to be ill-timed. So naturally, it was a very strange feeling when Bill opened the door. Bright red light draped over the six figures, and they all gasped in silent fear. With the exception of Eddie, of course, who barely managed to speak above a whisper.

"I knew it!" He collapsed into gags, never been more appalled in his life.

"So you guys do see it," Bev nodded, her suspicions were confirmed. "Y/n saw it too. My dad couldn't, I thought I was crazy."

Eddie chuckled nervously and had to turn away from the door for a breath of fresh air.

"Well," Ben said gently. "If you're crazy, then we're all crazy,"

Richie shifted slightly on his feet, finding his voice.

"Jesus, I didn't know PMS was this bad," Richie winced when Eddie whacked him on the arm. "What?"

"We c-c-can't leave it like this," Bill said finally.

Bill stepped into the bathroom, careful not to slip. Though most of the blood had somewhat dried and was not as slippery as he was expecting. The rest followed, Beverly grabbed some cleaning supplies from under her kitchen sink. Handing out gloves for each of them, as well as rags and towels, they each got to work.

Beverly focused on the mirror and the sink, Bill and Stan had worked out a system to clean the floor. Richie and Eddie - who had somehow found a mask and was still gagging - gathered trash bags and filled them with anything that was stained  
This system required frequent trips to the washer and dryer. Y/n, who had almost retreated up the stairs to check on them, heard the distinctive creak of a certain screen door, peered up through the grates.

It was Eddie, and he had stepped out onto the landing for some much needed fresh air. He was gagging, and for a moment she feared he would hurl. She retreated up the stairs, carefully keep an eye on the parking lot next door for Bev's dad as well as steer clear from the line of fire.

"Hey, you alright there?"

Eddie, who had been grasping the railing, turned to Y/n, having not realized it was her that had journeyed up the steps. Collecting himself, he nodded while reaching into his fanny pack and pulling out the inhaler. He shook it several times before putting it to his lips, and Y/n kicked herself for choosing the worst possible time to speak.

"What took you guys so long, I was worried something happened."

Eddie's mouth was still closed and his eyes widened suddenly. He tried to gesture to his inhaler that he still had to hold his breath, but she had already connected the dots. She shook her head, laughing weakly.

"Right. Sorry,"

He smiled and an awkward silence hung in the air. The pair both felt a wave of relief when Eddie exhaled seconds later breaking the silence, and he capped the inhaler. He shook his head, a small shiver running down his spine.

"Cleaning," he said so quickly Y/n almost didn't catch it.

She had been leaning on the railing, overlooking the small plot next door, and she frowned in confusion.

"Huh?"

"Cleaning. We were cleaning. That's what- that's why we took so long." Eddie wasn't used to tripping over his words, and he hated it had to happen now of all places.

Y/n nodded, mouthing a 'right' and another silence fell between them. They would never know, but at that moment each of them were screaming at themselves to say something, anything to disrupt the awkward tension. Both of their hearts had begun to flutter, painstakingly aware of the fact they were alone together and that had never happened before. But a small part of them was glad they were alone, though neither of them was confident enough to say or do anything.

In silence, they remained, though it did not take long for it to melt into a peaceful ambiance. Y/n found herself looking at Eddie, he had become awfully squeamish like he wasn't used to sitting still for this long. She folded her lips in, trying to hide the small smile that had crept up and she quickly looked away. Eddie, who had felt a pair of eyes on him, hesitantly looked to the girl, fighting the blush on his cheeks. She was looking off in the distance and looked to be deep in thought. In reality, she had focused all her attention on one spot in the distance pretending she didn't know he was looking.

The brief moment between the two children was not picture perfect, nor was it ideal, for either of them. But it was innocent, and it was real. Beneath all the tension and worry, was a sense of excitement. A giddiness that came with a sense of hope and mutuality that they were not alone in their feelings. And at that moment a small bond was formed between the pair that held promise for times to come.

×××

The last remnants of the once bloody bathroom were dumped into one of the many plastic trash bags. Readjusting his rubber gloves on his wrists, Ben grabbed the large plastic bag, trying not to let it slip from his grasp. The blood that remained on his yellow gloves had not soaked in and it became an obstacle to hold the plastic bag without it slipping. He struggled to bring to carry it out into the hall and he found himself hesitating outside Beverly's open room, despite having made many trips past her open door already.

A feeling tugged in his gut, the feeling one gets when the window of opportunity is closing. Beverly and Bill had their backs turned, currently standing over the tub, scrubbing the last of the blood from the tub. Richie and Stan could be heard bickering in the front room, and Ben didn't really know where Eddie was. He knew that no one was looking, no one would notice if he snuck an innocent peek at Beverly Marsh's room. So he did.

He only allowed himself to pop his head in for a brief moment. He had no intention of rifling through her things, no desire to ever cross the threshold. Just a quick peek at the everyday life of Beverly Marsh and he was delightfully intrigued to see the keyboard set up on her desk. He could practically see her plucking away in the wee hours of the morning, a small concentrated frown on her face and the tip of her tongue peeking out of her lips while deep in focus. Her room was untidy, shirts, jackets and other pieces of her wardrobe spilling out of her open drawers and on the floor.

Several books and journals were stacked in small piles in the corner of her room in an organized mess. Her bed was made and laid out across the bedding was a familiar blue dress that lay forgotten. Sprinkled across her faded lilac walls were polaroids and pictures from the photobooth at the Capitol Theater of her and Y/n, smiling and laughing. Some of them silly. And he almost missed the Derry postcard, the poem he had written for her, sitting on top of a leather journal. It filled him with glee that something he had given her was sitting on her bed with everything else she saw every day. Like his heart had the privilege of being another trinket amongst her things. And in a way, it was.

Ben had only taken one glance around the room before pulling himself away. It was quick and he had not known what to expect, and yet every detail he managed to take in did not surprise him at all, it was all so... Beverly.

He was surprised to see the room was unkempt and imperfect. Just like he was. It was a gentle reminder that she was just as human as he was, it made her all the more real and much to his surprise he felt himself relating to her. It was a giddy and warm feeling though it quickly evaporated when he saw Bill and Bev alone in the bathroom.

They were no longer cleaning, they were talking. Giggling. Bill had made her laugh. She seemed as giddy as he had felt the day she signed his yearbook. She was giggly and flustered, and it was all because of Bill. Sparing himself the pain, Ben swallowed the lump forming in his throat and trudged down the hall, leaving the two with their privacy and reminding himself that she was never his.

Beverly looked down the hall, dismissing the thought she had heard footsteps. Realistically, she knew she must still be jumpy and paranoid from her encounter. She shook it off and returned to Bill's side. He had been in the middle of finishing a thought, she realized, but she hadn't caught it. She had been thinking of the poem. While it was signed from her secret admirer, she had an inkling who it must be from. Regardless, she felt the need to clear the air.

"It's not true, you know." She bit her lip fighting the small flutter I'm her stomach. "What they say about me."

Beverly hated what people thought of her. And she hated talking about it almost as much. It was mortifying having to defend yourself of such things. Especially towards someone she might like. Or worse, to someone who might like her, and if they liked her, maybe it was because they heard such awful things. Thought she was easy. But if it was Bill, she thought, whoever wrote the poem wouldn't go to such trouble to write her something so beautiful and innocent.

And she rarely thought about it, but she realized as she spoke of it out loud, Bill had been the one she had kissed all those years ago, in the play. Just a stupid play. She smiled weakly, shrugging her shoulders.

"I was only ever kissed by one guy." A flicker of recognition flashed in Bill's eyes, and she continued. "It was a long time ago. It was a nice kiss though."

Bill prayed he wasn't completely red. Of course, he remembered the kiss the two had shared. Of course, it didn't help that Richie brought it up every other day just to mess with him. Bill remained silent, but he nodded his head slightly.

Beverly knew if she didn't speak now, she would never have the opportunity. And it was rare to have a moment alone with Bill, and it was especially rare Richie wasn't around to hear it and poke fun. But she had to know, and she was really starting to like him. Knowing there was no time like the present, Bev took a deep breath before reciting the words she had been replaying in her head.

"'January embers'"

Reluctantly she peaked at boy's reaction, expecting to see surprise or even a faint blush. But instead, his eyebrows twitched in confusion, before melting into a relaxed smile.

"W-was that in the play?"

She tried not to assume the worst, though it was hard to banish the creeping feeling of disappointment.

"No, the poem."

"Oh," Bill chuckled nervously, embarrassed not to know what she had been talking about. "Oh, I don't really know m-much p-poetry."

Beverly felt her heart sink, and it took her a moment to recover. It had not been Bill, as she had hoped. Once again she was in the dark, and now she began to doubt the credibly of the poem itself.

"Oh. I was just..." she shook her head, her voice blowing in an attempt not to break. "Never mind then."

Perhaps it was all some sick joke someone played on her. How hilarious it was to make her think that she was capable of any genuine affection. Beverly cast the hideous thoughts from her mind, and a small silence fell between the two. Bill, who had sensed he had said the wrong thing nervously spoke up.

"Um... Ju-Just so you know, I... I never believed any of those rumors. And none of us Losers do. We like hanging out with you."

Bill was relieved to see the warm and relieved smile that stretched across her face. A smile big enough to squint her eyes ever so slightly.

"Thanks."

A grin of his own tugged at the end of his lips and he chuckled.

"You shouldn't thank us too much. Hanging out with us makes you a Loser, too."

She laughed, her shoulders moved and her head hung lazily off her shoulders mid chuckle. She looked Bill, grinning ear to ear and gave him a simple nod.

"I can take that."

Beverly could feel the weight of her previous sadness evaporate into the air. He might not have been the one to write the poem, but he still seemed to care for her, and he believed her, and that was enough for her in that moment.

×××

Out on the fire escape, the unlikely duo had found themselves engrossed in a discussion about how much they had in common. Particularly, how they each found themselves as a target to the infamous Bowers gang. Every so often, Y/n would wince at the pounding of her heart when she heard a car go by. She was so encapsulated by her conversation with Eddie she worried she would miss Beverly's father.

"I honestly think he has used every name in the book already. That is the only explanation I can think of that could possibly explain why Patrick fucking Hockstetter could come up with a name as trivial and weak as shrimp. Like, it's not even a slur, I'm like, ninety percent sure there's some type of shrimp that can like shoot these bubble bullets that are loud enough to burst a human eardrum or something like that, I do not see how that is an insult, I mean come on!"

Y/n had thrown her head back in laughter at his odd ramblings and he could feel his insides to turn to jelly. Richie was always the one to make people ache with laughter, not him. With the exception of Richie himself, but that was banter. But with Y/n it was different, it was exciting and it gave him a blooming sense of pride in his chest. Eddie cleared his throat, a nervous tick of his, and he prayed to whatever all-knowing force in the universe that what he was about to say didn't make him sound like a complete fool.

"Ya know, we're all glad you came to the quarry with us. We had a lot of fun with you." Eddie cleared his throat once more. "I had a lot of fun with you."

Y/n felt the swarm of butterflies in her stomach once more. She couldn't fight the smirk if she had tried. She chuckled and nudged him with her elbow.

"I had fun hanging with you too, shrimp."

Eddie found himself releasing a breath of laughter and shaking his head. His insides were absolutely liquid, he was sure of it and he knew if he wasn't careful his heart would burst right out of his chest. What the hell was this girl doing to him? And did he really just ramble about shrimp for two minutes? Fuck!

Much like their match at the quarry, the pair found themselves to be quite compatible with one another. Each of them brought to the table a much-needed strength. However, this dynamic was interrupted by the screen door bursting open, hitting the wall with a sharp whack!

The two jumped apart, unaware until that very moment that they had inched closer during their moment alone. Out of the apartment came Stan accompanied by Richie who stormed past him.

"Where ya been Eddie Spaghetti, you sprout roots or somethin?"

Richie's playful demeanor fell for only the briefest of moments when he saw the pair as they were. They both blushing and shifting on their feet. Richie ignored the pang in his chest and smacked his lips throwing his arms around each of his friends. As it sometimes happened - usually, when he was most uncomfortable, like now - Richie opened his mouth and a completely different voice came out without him trying, in this instance, it was heavy southern drawl.

"Come'awn lovebirds, times a tickin and I reckon none a y'all are achin tur answer ta the old man any time soon. Well hop to it, come'awn now, get!"

The lovebirds in question rolled their eyes in near-perfect sync as they were ushered down the metal steps. Y/n cast a glance over her shoulder to Beverly hoping to catch her eye but she was too busy locking the apartment door behind her. The rest of the Losers were somewhere in between herself, Richie, and Eddie and Bev and Ben who held up the back. When they reached the floor below, Y/n gave a quick once over to the Losers and asked them to wait.

Seeing Beverly lock up reminded her that she still had to so, herself. She would be in big trouble if she left the house unlocked again and she smiled weakly at her new friends before ducking inside for her key. Not unlike Ben, Eddie was faced with the temptation of a peek inside the everyday life of the girl that caught his eye. She had left the door open a crack, allowing him the option of poking his head inside though it felt wrong.

Without his permission, his brain began accumulating several different excuses that could get him inside. Can I use your bathroom? Eddie shivered. No, no, no. Too soon. Do you have a tissue? Ech, no. That's lame, and it didn't guarantee an invite inside. Oh, I know! Can I have a small glass of water, I need to take my pills. It wasn't a lie, after all, it was getting close to his afternoon pill. But before he could work up the courage, or even finish his thought, Richie took it upon himself to waltz inside.

Figures.

"Richie!" Eddie hissed, cautiously entering to retrieve his obnoxious best friend. "What the fuck, man?"

"What? She left the door open! Come on Ed's, don't you want to see your girlfriend's house? Or have you already had an exclusive tour?" Richie waggled his eyebrows with a cheeky grin.

Eddie scoffed harshly and shook his head vigorously. "No, and you damn well know she's not my girlfriend, asshole. Come on, we weren't invited."

Ignoring Eddie's pleas and the tug on his arm he finally got a good look around. Richie puckered his lips and a low whistle stretched out over the silence. It looked just like Beverly's apartment, only it was much less furnished and somehow it managed to look both new and old. He was shocked to see it so empty and bare. Aside from basic furnishings like the couch, small rug and lamp the place was somewhat barren. The walls were unpainted and somehow chipped, and everything was faded and was visibly touched by age. A battered and small television set sat across from the moth-eaten couch and it looked to be a couple of models older than what everyone else had.

Eddie felt guilt burrow inside him at the sight. He had already felt guilty for stepping inside without her knowledge but now it just felt wrong. Y/n had just told him not five minutes ago about her family's financial struggles. Her shabby clothes and hand me down things were what gave her away to Bowers. And despite her ripped and frayed attire that earned her ridicule in the first place, Henry and Patrick had deemed it fitting to steal her jackets and on some occasions her shoes just for a laugh. They wouldn't even keep them, they throw them out of her reach, either in a high tree or into a nearby stream. Whichever was closest and most inconvenient.

It only took one look around to see her home life rang true to this fact. Just about everything in here looked to be off the street or handed down - granted, most of it was. Eddie felt his stomach churn when he saw a large faded stain in the faded eggshell carpet. Upon first glance, he had thought it had been from a glass of wine or even a juice box but it was much too dark and it wasn't long before he connected the dots.

A distant voice echoed from down the hall, followed by a thud and several grunts.

"For fuck sake, I just saw it!" Y/n wasn't having much luck finding her key.

Eddie's hand which had still been on Richie's arm tugged harder and he began ushering him towards the door.

"Richie, come on!" He hissed through gritted teeth.

"Jesus, keep your pants on, Eds"

"Don't fucking call me that, now come on!" He grunted under his breath, trying to pull Richie out the front door, much to Richie's amusement.

"I'm coming!" Eddie frowned when he realized the voice hadn't been Richie's.

Much to their surprise, they saw Y/n emerge from the hallway, eyes focused on her fingers as they detangled her lanyard as she entered the living room. She was still shouting, under the impression that everyone was waiting for her outside.

"I couldn't find my-" She flinched when she looked up and she stopped abruptly. "-key."

A confused frown molded onto her face and her eyes flickered between Richie and Eddie. She gulped and consciously shifted on her feet so her sneakers hid the stain, knowing it would only repulse Eddie. She was still too shocked and off-put by the fact the boys where in her home, and they - specifically Eddie - seemed just as startled. The smaller boy's mouth opened and closed feverishly like a fish as he looked between her an amused Richie.

Finally, he jabbed a finger at his best friend and shook his head defensively. "He did it. I came in here after him. To get him. Out."

Y/n blinked a couple of times, processing the abnormality and unexpected turn of events. She stifled her instincts to be embarrassed and forced a shrug, wanting nothing more than to move on.

are we not gonna talk about the elephant in the room?" Richie asked, circling the Losers in his bike as they walked theirs. "I say, we are all moving on from 'Bev's sink went all, Eddie's mom's vagina on Halloween', way too quickly!"

"Alright, just shut up, Richie!" Eddie snapped.

"Yeah, shut up, Richie!" Stan added, all too eagerly.

"Oh, okay, trash the trash mouth, I get it! Look, all I'm saying is, there's got to be a better explanation cause there's no way in hell that happened. You ladies must have a gas leak or some shit, cause I'm willing to bet you good money - you heard it right toots, this thing called currency that gets ya stuff - that what we just spend a good half hour cleaning something that wasn't there."

Y/n rolled her eyes at the side comment. Any other day she'd be offended, but she had known Richie long enough to know he made such jokes when he was uncomfortable and he had no problem with her financial struggles. But that didn't mean she appreciated the comment.

"She didn't imagine it, Richie. Neither did we, and n-n-neither did you, and y-you know it." Bill said.

Bill slowed to a stop, and everyone followed suit. He was lost in thought and he seemed displaced. He had everyone's full attention now and he gulped, trying to find his voice.

"I... I saw something too."

"You saw blood, too?" Stan asked, curiously.

Bill looked to Stan and the rest of his friends. His hands were gripping his bike handles, nervously twisting his palms against the rubber.

"Not blood." He took a deep and shaky breath, it was the first time since it happened he truly allowed himself to dwell on the memory. "I saw G-Georgie."

Even Richie had quieted, and he stood still, standing over his bike and he could feel the tension in the air. He hated it. He hit his tongue for as long as he could, and Bill continued.

"I-It seemed so real. I mean, it seemed like him but there was this…"

"The clown." Eddie finished.

Y/n flinched and she felt the horror settle back onto herself like it had never left. She stared at the ground, though her gaze was miles away. She fought the lump in her throat and she felt a coldness blanket her skin.

Eddie looked around at his friends, a look of unease and discomfort. Apart from Y/n, who looked displaced and disconnected from the world. He felt another spark of guilt but it was easily drowned out in his own fears.

"Yeah, I saw him, too."

"Until Beverly," Y/n croaked, grabbing everyone's attention. "I thought it was just me."

She looked up from the concrete and to each of the Losers. The look in her eyes unsettled them almost as much as the topic. She seemed cut off from reality like she wasn't all there. Like part of her was still back there, where it happened. And in a way she was.

"That's what did this..." she gestured to her ankle and subconscious she shifted on her feet.

The air became even thicker with tension, and everyone's stomachs dropped.

"Holy shit," breathed Stan.

"I saw a clown, too. At the library." Ben squeaked.

"Can only virgin's see this stuff? Is that why I'm not seeing this shit?" Richie asked, breaking the tense silence.

Before anyone could retort, a chorus of shouting brought the seven children's attention down the road.

Eddie gulped. "Oh, shit, that's Belch Huggins' car."

Y/n squinted, her eyes falling to a collapsed bike on the ground near the car.

"We should probably get outta here."

"But look someone's bike." Y/n pointed out. "They're probably tormenting some poor kid, we should help!"

"Yeah, isn't that the homeschooled kid's bike?"

"Yeah, that's Mike's" Eddie murmured.

"Y/n's right, we gotta help him!" Beverly said firmly, looking to each of them.

"We should?" Richie asked nervously.

Y/n looked at him incredulously. "Yes!"

Her bike dropped to the ground forgotten, and she ran in the direction of the bully's car, and Beverly soon followed. Eddie's heart dropped briefly when he saw her disappear through the ferns and he hesitantly dropped his bike, going after her.

"Y/n!" He called.

"Oh, for fuck's sake. Wait up, spaghetti!" Richie was close behind him, and the others followed.

The only one to linger was Stan, who paused to park his bike rather than drop it.

×××

"Come on!"

Mike Hanlon fights the strength of the rubber boot pushing his head towards the unpacked meat. He had been in town for his delivery, only this time he wasn't so lucky. Bowers and his gang had cornered him and chased him off the road. He was laying on his stomach, pushing with all the strength he could muster to keep his head above the ground, but his strength waned.

"Eat the meat!"

"Eat it, bitch!"

"You little fucker!"

Mike winced when he felt his face sink into the slimy cold textures of the exposed packages of meat. The Bowers gang erupted in cheers and their laughter sounded like that of crazed hyenas.

"Motherfucker!" Henry screamed with rage.

"Eat shit!"

The way they acted, it was as if Mike had murdered their entire family. They hated him with such blind disgusting passion. Not only did they not care what trauma they were inflicting upon him, but they were also excited by it.

Of course, each of the bullies seemed to miss the lanky figure lurking in the bushes. It was a clown, It was smiling a wicked grin and It's face - particularly It's mouth - was covered with blood that was dripping from It's unhinged jaw. Any fear of the bullies above him was long gone, completely replaced by the demon in the bushes. Against his better judgment, Mike lifted his head - the boot now gone from above his neck - to get a better look. He had to be imagining it.

But the image only got clearer. The voices of Henry Bowers, Belch Huggins, and Victor Criss were lost to him as he looked on in horror. The clown was chewing on something, Sweet Jesus, he was eating a human arm, he realized. If he wasn't nauseous at all before he was now. The clown was, in fact, chewing on the fingers of a severed arm, a child's arm by the looks of it. The clown made eye contact with Mike, a wild look in It's eye, a primitive, beastly look that no human could ever possess. The clown's smile grew and there was a glint of an almost childlike glee that only intensified Mike's fear.

It took the severed arm out from between It's long and sharpened teeth and smiled once again in a childlike manner. As if mocking him, the clown waved the child's arm back and forth and the hand-rolled around, still connected by its joints making the child's hand wave at Mike. Mike could feel the icy grip of fear tightening in his chest and he could taste the vomit that had climbed up his throat.

Mike's ears were ringing but through the high pitched hum, he could only just now hear the angry cries of Henry Bowers.

"GET THE FUCK UP!"

Mike pushed himself up, but before he could process what had happened, he lay on his back, his face bleeding and throbbing. One of the bullies, he didn't know which one, had kicked him right in the face. Mike was now struggling to keep a deranged Henry away from his face but the boy was just crazy enough to withstand or even register any signs of struggle. A deep and feral roar erupted from the deepest depths of his chest as he releases all his anger on the poor boy.

He knew if he didn't fight back, Henry would kill him. He was just that crazy and he was damn well angry enough. Mike struggled to fend him off but he could only fight for so long. He grunted in a messy combination of fear, exhaustion, and pain when Henry managed to pin Mike's arms to the ground. One hand still pinning Mike's arm into the bed of rocks, he released the other as he retrieved the biggest rock within his reach. He held it high above Mike's head and snarled in victory knowing he had him right where he wanted. Just before he swung the rock down into Mike's skull, Henry felt pain explode in his own.

He tumbled off Mike and into the bed of rocks, several jagged edges poking into his back and spine. Victor and Belch had jumped back in surprise and everyone looked on in surprise to see a seething [h/c] haired girl across the stream. She was dressed in her signature unkempt mismatched wardrobe that both hung off and clung to her [b/t] figure and it was visibly clear the clothes she wore were not originally hers and it was common most things didn't fit properly. She was glaring at Henry Bowers, fire in her eyes and completely repulsed at what she had found them doing.

Six more figures emerged from the bushes, recognizable as Beverly, Stan, Eddie, Ben, Bill, and Richie. Stan looked between Y/n and Henry and smirked weakly.

"Nice throw."

"Thanks," Y/n said. "Felt pretty good."

She could have sworn she heard a small voice behind her whisper. "Woah"

Y/n saw the poor boy Henry had almost killed was struggling to cross the stream and immediately she stepped forward not caring about the risk of getting hurt by the Bowers gang. She could feel her shoes fill with water and her thin socks acted as a sponge bringing in the water to her skin. Y/n extended her hand to the boy who gladly took it and she helped him to the shore with the rest of the Losers.

"Hey, are you okay?" She whispered, her eyes worriedly scanning the boy for any injuries.

Mike would be lying if he had said he hadn't felt his pulse spike just the slightest at her kindness. He didn't even know this girl and she risked her life to save him, it was debt he worried he'd never be able to repay.

"I'm okay." He cast a brief and cautious glance back at the bully before returning to her [e/c] eyes. "Thank you."

She smiled weakly and nodded. She made sure he was back on his feet before she ushered him behind her with the rest of her friends. She knelt down and grabbed another rock out of precaution and glared at Henry. He was stumbling to his feet, eyes completely fixed on her in complete and utter shock.

The other Losers, including their newest recruit, picked up a rock of their own.

"Leave him alone, Henry," Beverly growled.

Y/n didn't bother to hide the proud smirk on her face at her best friend's retaliation. She knew all too well of the horrible things he'd say about her and it was hard for her to stand up.

Henry's eyes flickered to Bev and he zeroed in on her.

"You Losers are trying too hard. She'll do you." Henry smirked, stepping forward. "You just gotta ask nicely, like I did."

The Losers grimaced at Henry's perverted gesture. Stan even looked worriedly to Beverly for her reaction before looking at Henry in pure disgust and hatred. Y/n stepped forward, though she fought the urge to speak for Beverly. Instead, she traded Beverly's smaller rock for her own which was the size of her fist, giving her the opportunity to really hurt Henry is she so desired. Henry gestured to Y/n before his eyes fell back to Beverly.

"After all, why settle for scraps when you can get the three-course meal for free?" He grinned maliciously and licked his lips.

Beverly gripped the new rock tightly, though her newly discovered voice died in her throat. Ben was unable to restrain his anger and he roared at the boy in utter fury, while Eddie had grabbed a bigger rock as well.

"Fuck off, Bowers!" Eddie gulped when he realized the words had come from his own mouth.

Eddie was just as surprised as everyone else at his outburst and he fought a wince when he heard his voice echo down the stream. He felt a pair of hands on his arm, it was Richie who worriedly pulled him back out of the direct line of fire and by his side.

Fortunately, everyone had been so distracted by Eddie they had failed to see the giant rock Ben had picked up and with every ounce of strength he could muster he chucked the rock at Henry. It grazed the top of his head and he winced, backing up into Victor and Belch.

"What the fuck?" He murmured.

Mike stood to his feet, still completely baffled at everything unfolding, though he didn't stop them from their sudden attack on Henry. Beverly was the next up to bat, the fist-sized rock Y/n had gifted to her had been big enough to knock Henry on his feet.

Victor and Belch jumped at Henry's orders and they and scrambled for rocks of their own.

Eddie jumped out of Richie's grip to the edge of the water to grab another rock. Y/n launched another over her shoulder and she smirked when it hit Henry in the crotch.

"Sure you don't want some scraps, asshole?" She roared, chucking another rock at his face.

It wasn't long before Richie's voice echoed down across the barrens as he released a battle cry of his own.

"ROCK WAR-!" Richie was struck across the forehead before he could finish and he was knocked down.

The barrens came alive at that moment and every ounce of hatred and loathing - from both sides - was released in a fiery passion of rage with every rock that was thrown.

"Fuck you, motherfuckers!" Richie cried.

"Get 'em, you fuckers!" Henry roared, scrambling to his feet and grabbing rocks of his own.

Like all the Losers, Eddie was lost in the adrenaline of the moment and had it not been for Y/n's keen eye, he would have taken a blow to the head. He felt a shove on his shoulder and he nearly lost his balance on the unstable terrain, and he gasped when he saw the giant rock fly past his head. He nodded at her in thanks.

Y/n had gotten quite a few strikes in before she yelped in pain. Taken aback by the cut of the shockingly jagged edge that had hooked into her skin. She hissed in pain, a hand covering the wound trying to stop the blood from pouring out. Y/n glared at Belch as she shook it off, grabbing more ammo. This did not go unnoticed by Eddie and he jumped into the creek, water splashing his ankles and soaking his feet but he didn't care. He stalked forward in the water getting as close as possible as he put all his anger into his throw.

Everything seemed to happen in slow motion as she and Eddie chucked their ammunition at the perpetrator.

Belch had been red in the face and spit was flying from his mouth as he glared daggers at Y/n.

"Fuck you, bitch!"

Much like Richie, his timing was unfortunate for him, as Y/n and Eddie's two large rocks struck him in the head and nose just as the words had left his mouth.

"Get the fuck outta here!" Richie exclaimed.

"Ah, shit!" Victor hissed as he was thrown to the ground from one of Ben's rocks.

Henry was now back on the ground, having been hit in the head a second time, from one of Mike's rocks.

In a mere matter of moments, the Losers had brought the Bowers gang to its knees, cowering in fear. Victor and Belch quickly retreated, leaving Henry whimpering in fear, hands covering his face and he was shaking like a leaf.

The Losers had never seen the boy so afraid and they glared at him in hatred, each of them panting heavily. When he was sure the rocks had stopped, Henry risked a glance from behind his hands. They fell on Y/n who stalked forward next to Eddie, streaks of red running down her arm. She stood only feet away from him and looked down at him as if he was something she dragged in on her shoe.

He looked up at her, not knowing what to expect. She cast one more angered glance before her head jerked in a swift movement, and spit flew from her mouth landing before him. He flinched at her sudden movement, still on edge from his attack and he slowly climbed to his feet. The Losers cast him one more glance before filing back into the brush one by one, grabbing Eddie's hand and ushering him out.

Richie was the only one to remain, and he gave in to one last surge of anger. He looked to the defeated figure of Henry Bowers and said the words he had always ached to say.

"Go blow your dad, you mullet-wearing asshole!"

Richie gave into the satisfaction and gave Henry the double bird, before disappearing in the ferns after his friends.


	8. • Hush, Hush, Hush •

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hush, Hush, Hush, Here Comes The Bogey Man - Henry Hall [r. 1937]

The children walk single file as they descended from the brush from where they had escaped, Eddie in the lead, Richie taking up the caboose. Y/n had helped Mike up the rocks, and shortly after found herself in the middle behind him. Mike cast a glance in her direction as well as the others.

"Thanks, guys," He said, redirecting his gaze to the ground. "But you shouldn't have done that, they'll be after you too, now."

Eddie was the first to chime in. "Oh, no, no, no, Bowers? He's always after us."

"I guess that's one t-t-thing we all have in common," Bill added.

"Yeah, homeschool!" Richie chirped. "Welcome to the Losers Club!"

Y/n smiled at the boy's remark, shaking her head lightly. It was then that Y/n was reminded of the fleeting thoughts from the night before that bounced around her tired, foggy brain. And a familiar feeling bubbled back up to the surface along with it; a sense of belonging. Y/n did not have much luck when it came to getting close to people, aside from Beverly of course. Until that day at the quarry, she had never truly felt at home. And now that they had a new member - the last piece of the puzzle - she knew as long as she had them, she would be whole.

In fact, they would never say it aloud, but each and every member of the Losers Club shared these same feelings. That day marked the beginning of a beautiful and powerful bond that would last a lifetime. Each and every one was just as important as the next and if you were to pluck any from the line, they would never quite be the same. Each of the eight children felt immediately at home with one another, a comfort so deep and profound it could quiet any lurking anxieties or fears.

For a short while, no one said anything, just a peaceful ambiance blanketed the atmosphere as they descended the small hill of grass. Each of them could feel the tall green blades brush their legs, and the silence was filled with the low yet loud rumble of the train traveling along the tracks, yards behind them. When they reached the bottom of the small hill, Y/n scurried up to the front and joined Eddie by his side. Everyone else disperses, scattering amongst one another, Ben silently taking the lead.

"Hey Kaspbrak" Eddie looked to her, a little taken aback but attentive. "I'm counting on you,"

Eddie blushed uncomfortably until he realized what she had been implying. She had been holding her left arm, just below the shoulder, and gestured to it with her eyes. She blushed herself and played it off with a weak laugh.

"My arm?" She wiggled her eyebrows playfully. "If you anyone has a band-aid it's you."

He laughed nervously as well, as he reached into one of his fanny packs, careful to watch his step as he was still walking. He pulled out a bandaid and handed it to her, she smiled in thanks. She wished she could have said she was surprised when he continued to pull supplies out one by one. And she'd be lying if she said she didn't find that a least a little impressive. It reminded her of clowns packed into a clown car. Ugh, she shivered slightly, bad analogy, nevermind.

"Here you go. Also, here's some ointment, it's a special disinfectant - who the fuck knows all the germs that were on that rock, you'll need all the help you can get. I also have gauze, normally I don't carry gauze but since your leg is still pretty bad, I figured I should carry some, just in case. Here you take it, I think I have some more, also, I kept a small wrap of ace bandages, you really need to - wait you have been changing them frequently, right? You always, always change bandages, the bigger the wound the more important it is you change it. Seriously, this is really important because-!"

"BEEP BEEP BEEEP!" Richie shouted suddenly, strolling up and walking between the pair. "Hear that sound, Doctor K? That's the sound of her flat-lining. You took too fucking long, genius, if you were a real doctor she would have bled out on your table already!"

Y/n snickered under her breath, several of the Losers smiled as well. Eddie felt his face grow hot, and he turned angrily to Richie, his face contorted in an angry pout. He was struggling for words, but before he could form a proper sentence, Richie continued.

"Quick tip, Doc, don't talk your patients to death!"

Stan laughed dryly, "Yeah, you're one to talk."

"Hey there, woah, woah, woah!" He threw his arms up in defense. "I'm just givin' the people what they want!"

"Great!" Y/n said excitedly, her face lighting up briefly before falling. "How bout some silence? Beep beep, Richie."

Mike, who had blended into the group so effortlessly and had been silently processing - still adjusting to the group dynamic - laughed suddenly and loudly. Everyone looked to him, taken slightly aback by his sudden, but infectious laugh. And it wasn't long until that laughter spread, everyone had cracked a smile and there was scattered laughter that melted away any previous tension.

By now, Y/n had applied the ointment and the band-aid easily. She handed the tube of disinfectant back to Eddie as well as the gauze.

"Thanks, but the band-aid will do just fine. Luckily, this one is only just a little cut."

Eddie nearly tripped, he had been so lost in thought as he stared anxiously at the gauze outstretched in her hand. He licked his lips nervously, and his eyes flickered to hers. She noted his tentativeness and waited expectantly, but he could hold his tongue no longer, crush or not.

"...Seriously, have you been changing those bandages, you never answered me and I'm sorry but that's disgusting if you haven't changed them cause the wound really needs to air out and if it doesn't you could end up-"

"Christ, Eddie! I've changed them!" Y/n blurted, falling into a small fit of chuckles to show she wasn't truly mad.

He tried to conceal his blush, but he played it off with a vigorous shake of the head and change of topic.

"Hey, where are we going anyway? I can't be out too long or my mom will kill me. One time, I was like, two minutes late for curfew and she had a panic attack."

Ben looked over his shoulder, he had taken the lead and while no one had mentioned it yet, everyone had instinctively followed him.

"Well, I was hoping to show you guys something."

Everyone gave one another an odd, questioning look but they followed Ben into the trees, nevertheless.

×××

Night had fallen the day of the rock fight, and in the following week the group had only grown stronger. The group of misfits had found themselves in town, where the annual parade was taking place. Wracked with guilt and the unpleasant feeling of being pitied, Y/n was trying to talk Eddie out of buying her the delicious frozen treat she had been ogling. Eddie had noticed the longing in her eyes when she spotted a young child with one of their own, and it was then that he really noticed the effects the sun had on her. Her baggy clothes were sticking to her arms and legs, and he could see beads of sweat percolating above her brow.

Once again, their previous exchange on the fire escape popped into his head and he was reminded once more of how fortunate he was that he could afford such little things he took for granted. The power of suggestion had already gotten to him as well when he saw a frustrated father shoving an ice cream cone at his crying child, and although the sight made him cringe he couldn't quite shake the sudden craving of the sweet treat. Hence their detour to the ice cream cart, he could practically hear Richie ragging on him for getting her something with the audacity to leave him out - What, you skimping out on me now, Eds? - Eddie opted for a vanilla for Rich, just to be safe. But none of that stopped Y/n from protesting against it.

"Eddie, you really don't have to do this,"

The young L/n girl looked between the hypochondriac kid and the disgruntled teenager behind the cart, slinging ice cream. Ignoring her protests, he dropped the small pile of coins he had retrieved from his fanny pack onto the metal counter of the cart. The overheated employee slid it towards himself to the end of the counter, plucking the quarters from the surface and handed Eddie two vanilla cones. Eddie gladly took them in each napkin-clad hand - he had already grabbed several napkins so as to not spill or drip anything. Y/n watched defeated, albeit a bit excited, as the young man behind the counter opened another compartment and retrieved the y/f/f popsicle and handed it to her.

She hesitantly took the popsicle, trying her best to mask the ravenous look in her eye.

"Eddie-"

"Look, it's best you have that anyway, it's supposed to get, like, really hot out today so it's best you keep cool or you could be one step closer to heatstroke. And let me tell you, that is not fun, not fun at all! Did you know that-"

A loud burst of noise disrupted their conversation and they turned to see the cause. Richie had gotten his hands on one of the marching bands instruments - a tuba by the looks, and sound of it. The owner of the tuba was angrily reaching for it but Richie managed to keep it out of his reach. His cheeks puffed and his face turned pink as a few short bursts of noise came from the instrument.

Eddie and Y/n shared an amused look and Y/n's eyes fell to the popsicle. She sighed lightly, trying to tame the pit in her stomach that always occurred when she was pitied. Now Y/n appreciated the gesture, she really did. It was awfully sweet of the boy, and she would be lying if she said it didn't make her stomach do a small flip, but all that was easily drowned out by how small she felt. She hated being a charity case, it was bad enough Beverly had basically kept her fed all these years but Y/n reminded herself that their friendship was symbiotic - they each had something to offer the other. But this made her feel like she owed Eddie, and she didn't like that.

The two left the cart and walked along the sidewalk at a steady pace. Nervously, she looked at the boy.

"Eddie, I appreciate it, but I don't want to owe you or anything. I-"

Eddie's face contorted into a confused frown. He chuckled weakly before taking a quick lick of his ice cream. He shook his head.

"You don't owe me! It's just a popsicle, it's no big deal."

Words failed her and she looked at the popsicle tentatively. Eddie noticed this and was scrambling to put out the small fire he had caused.

"Think of it as a favor to me,"

Y/n showed no efforts to hide her confusion. "A favor?"

"Yeah, you stay cool, and I don't have to take care of you when you suffer from heatstroke."

Her frown stayed cemented to her face as she stared at the boy, and Eddie feared his message was lost in translation. For fuck's sake, he didn't mean it like that! Great, now he sounded like a total ass.

Y/n broke out into chuckles and Eddie felt the enormous weight leave his shoulders. He chuckled with her, though they came out more strained and nervous. She shook her head, eyebrows raised.

"Man, you must care if you're willing to make up that load of horse shit." Y/n's tempted eye fell to the popsicle in her hand. "Thanks, shrimp, I appreciate it. But just this one time, okay? I always end up feeling like I owe people whenever they do stuff like this. Even if it's small things, cause a lot of stuff that might seem small to you, are kind of a big deal to me, does that make any sense?"

Eddie nodded.

"To tell you the truth, I've never tried one before."

Eddie's eyes widened and he looked frantically between her and her dessert.

"You gotta try it! They're really good!"

Y/n smiled weakly.

"Eddie, I mean it. Do you get what I'm saying?"

Eddie nodded eagerly, his eyes frequently falling to the popsicle.

"I get it, won't happen again. I promise. But seriously, you gotta try it! Really though, before it melts."

Y/n examined the frozen y/f/f pop and noticed the ice was thinning. She shrugged at Eddie and tried the popsicle. Her eyes widened and she gaped at the boy.

"Holy shit."

Eddie grinned eagerly, and by now the two were approaching Richie.

"Right?"

"Dammit, Eddie! You really shouldn't have done this, I'm gonna want another one!" She whined, though her voice held a twinge of humor.

She switched the popsicle to the other hand to lick the melted residue that had made it on her fingers. Eddie was quick to supply her with an extra napkin which she thanked him for.

Eddie laughed at her words and he noticed he had caught Richie's eye. More specifically, the extra ice cream cone did. Richie abandoned the tuba and waltzed over to the boy, gladly accepting the treat and the trio found themselves joining the rest of the group just inside the alley. They were all somber, Y/n couldn't help but notice.

"What's wrong?" She asked, drawing all eyes to her. "What are guys talking about?"

"What they always talk about," Richie said simply.

"I actually think it will end," Ben said, ignoring the interruption. "For a little while, at least."

"What do you mean?" Mike asked.

"So I was going over all my Derry research and I charted out all the big events. The Ironworks explosion in 1908, the Bradley Gang in '35, and the Black Spot in '62. And now kids being... I realized this stuff seems to happen-"

"Every 27 years," Bill and Ben finished.

Y/n looked up from her frozen pop and licked her lips, for some reason feeling silly for enjoying such a thing during this discussion. She found her stomach was twisted in knots, though at least, she thought, Eddie was right. She was feeling cooled down. But none of that seemed to matter now. Like it was all a matter of time before all of these fleeting feelings, these little moments, were being packed and stored away for a long time. It was a strange feeling that she couldn't quite identify, a feeling each of the Losers Club was experiencing: that while everyone around them was laughing and playing, enjoying the blissful moments of summer, they themselves each felt as if they were enjoying their last day on earth.

×××

"So let me get this straight," Eddie began, fingers drumming nervously on his right knee. "It comes out from wherever to eat kids for, like, a year? And then what? It just goes into hibernation?"

The Losers found themselves in the park, frozen treats long gone, the pits in their stomachs however still very much present. Bev, Stan, Mike, and Ben were splayed put on the bench, backs to the infamous statue of Paul Bunyan. Richie sat on his parked bike, unfortunate enough to be facing said statue - he never said it but the thing always creeped him out, just something about it. Bill and Eddie each found a seat of their own on the long back of Silver and Y/n laid in the grass before them in between the two bikes. She was propping herself up with her arms and legs splayed out before her. Her leg was healing fast but she didn't want to risk sitting on it and making it worse.

So here the Losers sat, lost in discussion and despite the hot weather, there was a chill in the air that only these eight misfits could feel. Looming over them, watching them, much like It did their own town.

"Maybe, it's like-- What do you call it?" Stan paused, searching for the word. "Cicadas. You know, the bug that only comes out once every seventeen years."

"My grandfather thinks this town is cursed." Mike said. "He says that all the bad things that happen in this town are because of one thing. An evil thing that feeds off the people of Derry."

An evil thing.

The three words that lurked in the back of Y/n's mind all her life. She could feel herself falling back into the pit, the black hole that swallowed her up every time she thought of the looming threat. She could feel herself disconnecting from the world again, watching herself being ripped away from this moment in time and tossed back to that awful night, though she could still hear the worried voices of her friends speaking. Completely unaware of her state of mind. The words were fuzzy and distant, background noise as she felt herself being transported to that day.

"I ain't got much time left, but at least I'm safer than you. I'm old, I've lived my life but you? Well, you're closer to death's door than I am."

"But it can't be one thing. We all saw something different." Stan said, his voice now began to fade out.

The voices were now blending together as memories of her past became her present reality.

"Cause this town, I tell you, this town... There's an evil, evil thing in this world," the man said.

She could hear her younger self whimper in fear, her own voice was squeaky and very frightened. The old voice continued, it shook with fear and the terror was as ripe as his memory, like only seconds had passed, not decades.

"monsters are all too real my child, I've seen 'em with my own two eyes."

Mike's voice found a way through her skull, echoing softly as all the details of the day she worked so hard to forget, came flooding back.

"Maybe. Or maybe it knows what scares us most and that's what we see."

"The Devil himself lives here, right here in this very shit hole and I've waited a very long time for this moment; to be free."

There was a moment of tension-filled silence as the young h/c haired girl looked up at the slouching figure. The girl clutches her teddy bear tightly to her chest - the sad old thing nearly worn down to threads - tears pooling in her e/c eyes as she stares on in horror at the distant relative. Old and senile he was, why her mother brought her here she didn't know. Y/n would later figure out that it was a final visit of sorts. A last chance to meet some of her family. And while her mother stepped out of the room to retrieve a simple glass of water for the man, he turned unexpectedly to his grandniece and imparted the words she would never forget.

"He's in your closet, under your bed. He's everywhere, always, watchin' you. Waiting for the right moment to snatch you up. And he will get you. He always gets you... he got her, I told her not to go, but she was adventurous you see, much like you kids are these days, and mother didn't like that and she always told us; 'you mind yourself or I'll tell him. I'll tell him...'"

The old man's glossy eyes drifted away, his voice trailing as he was lost in the memory; reliving it all over again.

"Tell who? Who is he?" The young girl asked tearfully?"

He broke from his trance and he looked at her with cold and fearful eyes.

"The Boogeyman." Y/n croaked, breaking from her stupor.

The Losers all looked to their friend in the grass. The color was drained from her [s/c] skin, and her eyes were distant and glassy. Her left leg had inched gradually up and was now clutched tightly against her chest protectively. Seven pairs of eyes were now fixed on her and she gulped.

"My great uncle Henry, I only met him once when I was about five or six, but he- he told me about how he saw the Boogeyman. Not much else, but the way he described It... I don't know, it always stuck with me. I've been afraid of It ever since and then-" Her eyes met Beverly's and she knew she had connected the dots.

"Your ankle." She finished.

Y/n nodded. She shifted in the grass uncomfortably before looking around at her friends. Some of them confused, others connecting dots of their own, but still intrigued and listening.

"When school got out, Bev slept over." Y/n began, filling in Mike especially. "We both fell asleep with the TV on, it woke me up so I got up to turn it off, and then, just as I started to drift off I felt Bev pull on my leg several times. But, I woke up and realized she was fast asleep."

She shook her head, trying to rid herself of the nerves that came crawling back even now. She fixed her eyes on the grass below her, and her fingers worked themselves into the ground. Y/n began fiddling with eh blades of grass, twirling them and ripping some from the ground as she continued.

"Next thing I know, It's pulling me across the carpet and my leg is torn to shreds. It looked like what I always imagined the Boogeyman to be, but... but it also looked like-"

"A clown."

She had to turn her body slightly to look at Eddie, but she nodded, confirming everyone's suspicions from the day before.

"Yeah, I saw a clown too. But It was also a leper." Eddie saw the confused looks scattered across his friends. "He was like a walking infection."

Eddie felt himself fighting his bodily instincts to vomit, still repulsed by the vivid memory. Stan, who had been squirming in his seat the entire exchange, fought desperately to deny the gory truth that lay before them. Trying to convince everyone, himself especially, that this thing couldn't exist. Cause if It did, it would be all too terrible.

"But you didn't," his voice trembled. "Because It isn't real. None of this is. Not Eddie's leper. Or Bill seeing Georgie, or-or woman I keep seeing." His voice broke, he looked down at his feet and the others knew.

He was trying to convince himself.

"She hot?" Richie asked with a half-smirk.

Stan gave Richie an incredulous look, and his voice rose.

"No Richie! She's not hot! Her face is all messed up. None of this makes any sense. They're all like bad dreams."

Mike spoke up, unable to tiptoe around him any longer.

"I don't think so. I know the difference between a bad dream, and real life, okay? Besides, look at Y/n's leg! How do you explain that?"

Y/n gave Mike a thankful nod, and Eddie asked the question she had at the end of her tongue.

"What'd you see? You saw something, too?"

"Yes," Mike answered somberly, and he took a deep breath. "Do you guys know that burned-down house on Harris Avenue?"

Y/n nodded, encouraging Mike to continue.

"I was inside when it burned down." Mike began fiddling with his hands nervously, and Bill could feel his heart ache. "Before I was rescued, my mom and dad were trapped in the next room over from me. They were... pushing and pounding on the door, trying to get to me."

Mike's voice broke and he fought hard against the tears that threatened to spill. His heart was breaking in two all over again, he rarely spoke of the incident, always much too saddened by it and each time he did he could hear their frightened screams and the scratches against the door.

"trying to get to me." There was a pause, and Mike swallowed the swollen lump in his throat. "But it was too hot. When the firemen finally found them, the skin on their hands had melted down to the bone."

"Mike," Y/n felt at a loss for words, but all she could manage was a simple few. "I'm so sorry."

He shrugged, and everyone could tell he was already beginning to rebury the memory.

"We're all afraid of something."

"You got that right." Richie quipped.

Everyone looked to the boy and Y/n asked gently.

"What about you, Rich? What are you afraid of?"

His eyes flickered to Eddie against his will, and he ignored the spike in his heart rate when he did so. Everyone was staring at him now and he gulped, looking over his shoulder to see a clown on the stage across the field, staring at him. He returned his gaze to the group, and swallowed nervously, adjusting his bulky glasses.

"Clowns."


	9. • Somebody's Watching Me •

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a//n: I had to tweak the timeline a smidge for this to work. Nothing major but the parade/park is roughly a week after the rock fight, not a day. And I left room for the shower cap scene afterwords

Since the day of the rock fight, the Losers had been inseparable. And not only had that day come to be known as the day their bond had been forged but the day they had found a place to call their own: the clubhouse. A small subterranean dugout that Ben had found while playing in the Barrens one day. After many a reinforcement, he had transformed it into a habitable space for him and his six, now seven best friends. After their defeat of the Bowers gang, Ben had taken them into the Barrens, and just across the Kenduskeag Stream to the aforementioned fort where their bonds were furthered forged.

And apart from their dark confessions at the park and the overcast of fear looming over their heads, Y/n had suggested another trip to the clubhouse as a morale booster. They each found themselves there with one another quite a bit, particularly when things were looking gloomy. It had quickly become a sanctuary for the children. And since their taking residency, the dingy little dugout had filled with trinkets and treasures of their own, slowly but surely growing far more homely with each visit.

This particular trip to the clubhouse was less than exciting, everyone was still fairly unsettled from their conversation at the park earlier that day. And the journey through the barrens and across the Kenduskeag was considerably silent apart from the trickling stream and the singing birds. And every so often they would hear the scuffle of Ben readjusting his backpack over his shoulder.

When they had left the park, he had suggested stopping by his house to pick something up and the others complied, curiously. Before they could debate on whether or not to follow him inside, he had returned from his house with a thick brown burlap cloth folded up under his arms. He was unzipping his backpack as he walked across his front lawn, tucking some more unseen things inside before storing the large piece of cloth and ropes in as well.

"What is that, Ben?" Y/n had asked, balancing herself on her bike as it stood still on the pavement, her toes reaching for the concrete.

He had closed his backpack and threw it over his shoulder before grabbing his bike.

"Oh, it's our old hammock." Everyone's face's lit up at his words, the first they had perked since the park. "We had it at our old house, but, we don't really have a good place to hang it here, so I figured we could find a spot in the clubhouse."

"That's a great idea," Mike beamed.

Ben smiled at the comment and turned a little pink. He had always found it odd his interest in architecture, the kids at his old school always gave him grief for it. And over time it became an instinct to bury his interest, to never bring it up. But when he showed the Losers the clubhouse, they were enthralled. With the structure and his abilities. Ben was still getting used to their fascination and support in his passions, but he sure did enjoy it.

And soon enough, the eight Losers found themselves descending the ladder into the place each and every one of them could call home. From the moment they entered, their noses were filled with the overwhelming and concentrated aroma of dust, and fresh layers of earth still damp from previous rains.

It was intoxicating to the Loser's as it became the smell they associated with the clubhouse, their hideaway. Their hideaway from the Bowers gang, their hideaway from the world, and if they believed hard enough, a hideaway from It. A place where they could be stronger than the world told them they were, a place that reminded them that they were stronger than the world told them they were.

But even this trip didn't seem to quite do the trick for each of them.

"I don't see why we're here," Richie snorted, waltzing over to the crooked beam and slapped it gently - learning from Ben's mistakes. "Unless this fucker is demon proof or whatever the fuck that thing is I don't see how this is gonna help."

"Doesn't mean we can't try and have fun while we can," Y/n argued. "Or at least try and clear our heads, calm down a little bit and collect ourselves. We can work something out some other day if we want, but not today. I mean, look at us,"

Y/n gestured around the small circle the Losers had formed at the center of the clubhouse. Apart from Y/n, everyone was quiet and closed off, arms either tucked at their sides or they were wringing their hands. It was not the same seven misfits that stood together against Bowers, but the seven lonely children that were isolated and afraid when It had found them.

"Look, I'm scared too. But somethings telling me we need to enjoy this while we can."

Y/n sighed, her waving arms falling to rest at her sides in exasperation and her eyes fell to the dirt floor. For some unfathomable reason, she would never be able to explain, the turtle from that day at the quarry popped into her mind, and a faint ghost of a smile dusted her cheeks. She looked around at her friends with a reassuring sense of confidence and some of them seemed to take to her words.

A similar thought crossed Beverly's mind and she smirked at her best friend and nodded, hands now tucked into her back pockets.

"Y/n's right, let's just enjoy the rest of the day while we can. It's summer!"

Bill fought the urge to roll his eyes at the familiar argument, but even he couldn't deny the whole idea of forgetting sounded tempting to him.

Poor Eddie - who had been clutching his inhaler tightly to his chest in between puffs of the device - looked around the circle, then up at Richie. Richie looked down at his best friend and shrugged, slapping the kids back and the inhaler nearly flew out of his tiny grasp.

"Whatdya' say, Eddie Spaghetti, you up for some good ol' fashioned repression and denial? Shouldn't be too hard for ya pal, that's what - every Wednesday night for you huh?"

If Eddie wasn't still holding the albuterol captive in his swollen lungs, he would've snapped at Richie for saying such things, and above all that God-awful nickname again! But instead, he rolled his eyes and looked to Y/n, ignoring that his heart was beating just a twinge faster, and hesitantly nodded.

"Great" Y/n smiled, relieved Eddie agreed.

She less than gracefully twirled around - her ankle ached in reply - to look for the boombox Bill had brought last time. Swallowing a wince, Y/n reached the boombox and turned the radio on, giving the room a lighter ambiance already. They soon quickly recognized the song New York Groove, by Kiss as it was fading out.

Y/n turned to Ben and gestured to his backpack.

"So, should we hang up the hammock?"

"Oh! Uh, yeah sure."

Ben took the faded backpack from his shoulder and unzipped it, retrieving the thick burlap cloth as the radio station announced the next song of the previous decade.

The Losers dispersed, making room for Y/n and Ben as they unfolded the hammock, the ends of the ropes trailing in the dirt after them. From the boombox in the corner, came the gentle tune of a piano, and a soft voice spilled into the atmosphere as the last rays of the sun shone through the entrance to the clubhouse.

"I'll light the fire   
You put the flowers in the vase that you bought today"

Ben gestured between two beams structured across the room and the pair made their way over as the song, Our House by Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young swelled, giving the rest of the Losers the sense of home and comfort.

"Come to me now and rest your head for just five minutes, everything is good"

Ben began instructing Y/n on how to hang the hammock, and the two set to work. Stan and Bev had begun gathering stray leaves that made their way into the clubhouse while they had been gone and set to tidying up. Between the two, it wasn't long before a competition formed to see who could get the most leaves and twigs out.

"Such a cozy room, the windows are illuminated by the  
Sunshine through them, fiery gems for you, only for you"

Meanwhile, Eddie, Richie, and Mike had begun playing a game of cards with a deck that Richie had left last time. Of course, a game hadn't been decided yet. The three boys - mainly Richie and Eddie - had begun arguing over what to play. It was between Bullshit, Sevens and Mike just wanted to play Palace.

"Our house is a very, very, very fine house with two cats in the yard,  
Life used to be so hard,  
Now everything is easy 'cause of you and our—"

Ben, Y/n, Bev and Stan had finished with their respective tasks before the trio could decide on a game. Everyone's attention was drawn back to Y/n and Ben when they put the finishing touches on the hammock.

"Alright," Y/n said, dusting off her hands after pushing herself off the dirt floor. "The hammock's all-"

Before she could finish her sentence Richie had leaped to his feet - cursing profusely under his breath when he bumped his head on a low beam - and ran for the hammock. Making sure to go out of his way to shove Eddie to ground for no particular reason and his small frame hit the dirt with a rather loud 'umph'. Protests were thrown across the room but Richie merely stretched out his long lanky legs and rested his head under his folded arms, sighing in content.

"Welp," Richie sighed, popping the 'p'. "You were right, toots. Coming down here wasn't so bad after all. And good thinking with the hammock, haystack. You got a good nugget in there."

Richie winked at Y/n and nodded firmly at Ben. The Losers rolled their eyes in near-perfect sync - a feat easier around one another than one might think - and Richie closed his eyes, ignoring their glares. Eddie was extra furious given he was still feverishly dusting several spots of dirt off himself.

"Alright, wake me when It's dead."

"Enough, Richie." Y/n warned, before turning to Ben. "Ben, what I tell ya? Within the minute."

Ben chuckled and Stan stepped forward.

"Richie, we're sharing the hammock, you have to get up one way or another" He warned.

"Yeah, yeah, sure thing, Stanley the Manley." Richie retorted, still never opening his eyes.

Stan rolled his eyes and stepped around the hammock. Catching Y/n's eye, he gestured silently to the hammock and an unsuspecting Richie. Smirking, she made her way around the hammock and gestured for the others to continue talking. About what, she didn't care. They caught on almost immediately, but Eddie choked. Mike was quick to cover.

"Eddie, if you really want we can play-"

THUMP

"THE FUCK?!"

Stan and Y/n had flipped the hammock and Richie was pulling his dirtied face from the ground with a wince.

"The fuck was that?"

"We all know you weren't m-moving otherwise, Richie." Bill shot.

"Hey, don't throw a fit just cause you guys were too slow."

Richie turned to see Stan sat in the hammock, smirking at him.

"You were saying?"

"Oh, come on! That's not fair!" Richie gestured widely at Stan, looking desperately around the room for scraps of sympathy.

Ignoring Richie's protests, Y/n turned to the others and raised a brow.

"How about we each have ten minutes? That way it's fair."

The Losers looked at one another and a chorus of agreement rang out.

"S-s-sounds good."

"Okay." Mike nodded.

"Yeah, alright."

"I call next!" Bev called.

"Oh, for fuck sake! Don't I get a say in this? Wasn't I the one just violently thrown from the hammock? Eds, come on! Back me up!"

Eddie wore a deadpan look as he met his best friend's eyes, bits of twig that Beverly and Stan had missed unknowingly caught in tufts of his hair.

"Oh, don't try that with me, dickhead!" Eddie shot back. "You're the one who threw me in the dirt, why the fuck would I help you, and for fuck's sake stop calling me Eds!"

Eddie took a deep breath after his small rant and glared at Richie. Scattered chuckles bounced across the Losers, Y/n's loudest of all.

"Good for you, shrimp" Y/n giggled.

"So just fuck me then, right?" Richie grumbled from the ground.

Richie was not quite expecting a chorus of agreements echo off the Losers though he couldn't say he was surprised.

"Pretty much."

"Yeah,"

"Uh-huh,"

"Yep,"

Huffing, he sat near the hammock and began finding ways to make Stan's turn in the hammock unpleasant. Stan didn't take this, of course, having many years under his belt of dealing with the loudmouth. Y/n looked at the pouting Tozier boy and felt a smile creep up and a twinge of guilt. She maneuvered around the hammock, and knelt down next to her friend, resting her ankle on the dirt floor where it wasn't strained.

"Oh, don't look so glum, Tozier. It's not a good look on you," She rested her elbow on the boy's shoulder and he quickly scoffed, brushing off her words.

"Oh please, everything looks good on me, toots, and you know it." Richie shot back, turning to meet her eye. "And I wouldn't be surprised if you wanted a piece of this, either."

Y/n guffawed, grabbing the attention of the Kaspbrak boy across the room, who was now watching them curiously. Her laughter bubbled into a small chuckle that would be bouncing around Eddie's head for the rest of the day like a catchy song. He watched fondly as the two engaged with one another and he noted how well they always got along.

Y/n shook her head, trying at no avail to shake the smile from her lips. "You wish, Tozier."

Richie held a smile of his own as he looked to her, that was until he glanced past her head and across the room to see the captivating gaze Eddie was held in. His big brown eyes focused on the girl beside him and that familiar pang that always returned when he caught Eddie staring at her like that. Richie swallowed thickly, his quick wit and sharp tongue taking over and he returned his attention to Y/n as if nothing happened.

Richie shrugged, clicking his tongue. "No need to be shy, babe. Everybody wants a slice, and there's plenty for you."

He puckered his lips and exaggeratedly smacked his lips at her and it was enough to do the trick. Her smile was gone, quickly replaced by her lips pressing into a firm line as she shoved his head away playfully. The Losers chimed in almost immediately. Various disgusted and disgruntled 'Beep beep, Richies' rang out after that comment and Y/n finally rose to her feet with a simple grunt.

"Ech, I told you not to call me that, you dick." She grumbled, though she bit back a defeated smile, as she walked away.

"That's my name, don't wear it out-" They said in sync, Y/n joining Bev on the bench on the far wall. "Yeah, yeah, I walked right into that one."

Richie sniggered triumphantly, and with his new burst of confidence, he returned to his attempts to aggravate Stan. Ben meanwhile, had begun making plans for another seating arrangement in his head, to divert some attention away from the hammock. He remembered he had some spare rope he kept with him in his backpack for such occasions - spur of the moment projects - and there were some sturdy enough boards laying around the place. By the end of the day - hopefully, with help - he could fashion a small swing seat for him and his friends. Not to swing, of course, there wasn't enough stability for that, but for sitting.

He shared his plan with Bill and the two got to work. Bill thought it was a terrific idea, given how much fuss was being made over the hammock. Occupying the far corner of the room, was Mike and Eddie sat at the low coffee table the Losers had found last Wednesday. Mike had made the discovery, passing through one of the smaller neighborhoods in Derry when he saw someone had left it out on the street for the taking. The Losers gathered that morning and hauled it to the clubhouse, took all day to get it there but at least they had a surface for cards and such. Between Mike and Eddie, it was a bit easier to decide on a card game. They landed on Palace, and Eddie was finding he was having loads more fun than he did with Sevens.

In between turns, he would find his eyes wandering past Mike at the bench on the wall. Y/n was thoroughly invested in Beverly's story, she was nodding along eagerly with a smile creeping up on her face. Eddie hadn't realized one was creeping up on his own, but he jumped slightly when she burst out laughing. Perhaps he was startled by the noise or he was just on guard from staring. Eddie looked away but he cursed himself when he realized she was looking at him.

She had seen it.

As for Y/n, she felt her stomach do a small flip when she felt a certain pair of brown eyes on her. Still smiling, she looked past Beverly, and on the ground, sitting curled up on a mat at the coffee table, blushing profusely and attempting desperately to avoid eye contact was Eddie.

A small hum of a laugh vibrated through Beverly's chest, and without looking at him, she knew.

"Is he looking at you again?" A smirk painted her face.

Y/n hummed a response she knew Eddie wouldn't notice. With a fleeting burst of confidence, Y/n looked at the small boy, meeting his eye, and winked. She returned her attention to Bev, smirking yet she couldn't help but keep an eye on him. The poor boy blushed instantaneously, his neck and face grew hot and when Mike returned his attention to his friend - he had been too caught up in what cards to play - became very concerned. Eddie was now completely red. But this time he didn't look away, and despite his racing heart and raging blush, he allowed himself to meet her eye once more and much to his surprise, the ends of his lips even twitched into a smile.

Y/n was attempting to hide blushes of her own, but not much time passed until the topic had changed along with the music. Each of them was swept back up in their own conversations in no time, though their minds replayed the small moment over and over. By now, several songs had come and gone, filling up the minutes of the time that wasted away in the company of the Losers.

The eight misfits were not fully immersed in their own activities, but still very much engaged with another. And it wasn't long until the looming threat of their previous subject at the park was briefly forgotten. For now, they were safe, tucked away in their own private corner of the world, lost in the blissful moments of childhood.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Bill inserts the last tack into the wall, the large map reading 'DERRY SEWER SYSTEM' now hangs in the garage. As usual, the Losers had arrived at slightly different intervals. Mike and Stan arrived first, and Mike helped set up the projector while Stan was hanging blankets over the windows to prevent as much light as possible from entering. Ben had arrived shortly after, be had brought the slides that Bill had requested, and the last to show was Bev and Y/n who had left their complex together and ran into Richie and Eddie on the way.

He could hear their conversation coming up the driveway, and the sounds of Bev eagerly greeting Ben and the others - seemingly happy to get a break from being the fourth wheel.

"What's the matter, Eddie? Don't tell me you're afraid of the shape-shifting clown, are ya?" Richie spoke, as the three came to a stop near the garage where they discarded their bikes.

"Oh, fuck off, Richie!" Eddie huffed.

Y/n laughed, but it was very weak and sounded almost forced. "Don't worry Eddie. Richie and I have your back. Right, Richie?"

Instinctively, her hand found Eddie's back and she pats him gently. Y/n smiled weakly, and it was clear she was just as nervous. Her hand fell from his back and immediately, Eddie missed it being there. Eddie didn't know how to respond, all he could muster was a shaky smile in thanks. It wasn't much, but he knew she had gotten the message.

In turn, Richie began ruffling Eddie's hair and the boy flinched trying to escape his friend's grasp.

"Hey! Hey, what the hell are-?"

"Why, of course, we got to protect ol' Eddie Spaghetti! In fact," A light bulb went off over Richie's head and he looked to Y/n who was listening amused. "Y/n and I, are the proud co-founders of... P.E.K.S"

Eddie finally manages to escape from Richie's torment and he huffed, attempting to adjust his hair. Eddie looks up at Richie, giving him an odd look, unknowingly Y/n was just as taken aback.

"The what? What the hell are you talking about?"

Richie swung his arm around Eddie and the three continued their journeys into the garage, finally joining the others. The rest of the Losers were just finishing laying out chairs and pillows for them to sit on.

"You don't know? It's P.E.K.S, that is 'p', 'e', 'k', 's' my friend, P.E.K.S. Protect Eddie Kaspbrak Squad and we take our job very seriously, don't we toots?"

An honest laugh escaped Y/n and for once she was relieved she had stayed quiet and went along with Richie's antics to find out, cause she agreed wholeheartedly. Swallowing her surprise, a smile found it's way onto her face and she looked to Eddie.

"Damn straight, shrimp."

Mike reached the garage door and reached for the handle, he paused taking one look around the room at his friends.

"Everyone set?"

Mike was met with scattered confirmations and with one swift tug of his arm, he pulled the door shut. All remaining sunlight - apart from a few weak rays peaking through the roof slats and the edges of the blankets - had vanished. All that illuminated the garage was the pale white light of the projector where Bill had just put in the slide Ben had brought of Old Derry. The same slide he had found in Ben's room the day they had gone to the quarry.

The group dispersed, getting situated around the projector. Unfortunately, they weren't able to find many seats so that left Mike and Bill standing near the back and Y/n opted for a floor pillow in front of the projector where she could see.

It also didn't hurt that she was near Eddie. But she did feel a bit exposed, she was front and center and the others were tucked in with one another in a way. However, it did give her the benefit of stretching out her bad leg. And yet, Y/n could not quite shake the feeling rooted deep inside her. To her it felt eerily similar to a common phenomenon experienced by millions of people around the globe, to her it felt as if she - and her friends, in their anxious huddle - were gathering around preparing themselves in front of their screen. Accompanied by the sickly feeling of dread and anxiety, mere butterflies - the special kind of butterflies - in her stomach that migrated only when a scary movie was about to start.

And decades in the future her brain would tell her it was nothing more than that. That that awful, nauseating feeling that had bubbled in the pits of her stomach that day was nothing more than a product of special effects and a cheesy plotline. And anytime coworkers would talk about movie nights they had as kids, and engage with her about such things, her mind would show her nothing more than a hazy ersatz memory it had painted for her.

Of her, under blankets and pillows, surrounded by kids - she would never stop to realize the faces were fuzzy, people she didn't know, she always felt alone in these memories. Her at the front of the pack, all crowded around a white television screen, her and the blurry kids, jumping back in fright at the blank white picture of static. This is all she would come to remember. A scary movie, with some blurry faces, five or six at least - one of the faces always stuck out stronger than the others, just a little bit clearer and wildly familiar but the thought would never linger long enough for her to recognize them. Y/n wouldn't remember that she was in fact with Stan Uris and Beverly Marsh, or even Richie Tozier, Mike Hanlon, and Ben Hanscom all stuffed in Bill Denbrough's garage on a hot summer day in July, investigating the darkest mystery of their small hometown.

But at the moment, all Y/n knew was that they were simply looking at Bill's projector, and he was sharing his theory and where It lives. Truthfully, Y/n did not know what to expect beyond that, but she could not shake that pit in her stomach. The pit that reminded her of the sickly feeling one gets when they are about to watch a horror movie. When the harsh violin plays, and the thunder strikes and one can feel the adrenaline coursing through their veins and they're trembling in all the excitement.

Y/n didn't like that she felt this way, but she tried to dismiss it. Even if there was credit it to it - she didn't want to admit there was but if she did at least she was surrounded by her friends. The slide came into the focus, and the words 'MAP of the city of DERRY' appeared in the corner. Suddenly, all the details of Derry were splayed out perfectly in line with the Derry Public Works system Bill had hung up. The children could now see the entire town of Derry, including the interconnecting pathways and tunnels below, represented by a strangely ominous bright red line. It branched out from the far left corner of the map, skewing off into many different branches, touching every corner of Derry.

"Look," Bill said, gesturing to something he had scribbled on his map. "T-T-That's where G-G-Georgie disappeared."

Everyone's eyes fell on the small 'x' marked on a red line on Jackson street. Scratched in black ink next to it were the words, 'Storm Drain'. Bill gestured to another familiar location that overlapped a red line.

"There's the Ironworks. And The Black Spot."

Sure enough, sprinkled across the map of Derry were the mentioned locations of Derry's biggest disasters. Each of them bordering the sewers.

"Everywhere it happens, it-it's all connected by the sewers," Bill said.

Every red branch, every red line, all came from one spot, one source on the map where everything overlapped. The pits in everyone's stomachs bloomed and they all knew.

"And they all meet up at the-"

"The well house." Ben realized aloud.

Eddie looked back slowly and tentatively towards the screen. Much like his friends his heart was pounding faster and faster. But Eddie could feel the familiar grasp around his lungs, and it only tightened at Stan's words.

"It's in the house on Neibolt Street," Stan said, in a similar realization.

Eddie remembered all too well the last time he had been there. But part of him had hoped it was all a nightmare. Some sick and cruel elaborate scene his mind had conjured up.

"You mean that creepy-ass house where all the junkies and hobos like to sleep?" Richie asked.

Shakily, Eddie pulled out his inhaler and gave it a good shake before bringing it to his lips. He tried his best to keep the medicine in his lungs long enough for it to take effect but he choked down a gasp, as he hunched over. Y/n moved closer to Eddie and her eyes fell to his free hand. Cautiously, she took it, looking to him for silent confirmation, he seemed too involved with steadying his breathing to notice it seemed.

"I hate that place," Beverly mumbled nervously, unaware of the pair in front.

Y/n assumed he was too frightened to notice her acts of comfort. That was until she felt the muscles in his hand relax, only slightly, and gave her palm a gentle squeeze in thanks.

"It always feels like it's watching me." Bev continued.

Letting out a shaky breath, and slowly but surely regaining his composure, Eddie sat up. Though he neglected to release Y/n's hand, and he was sure in any other moment he would be a blushing mess but this felt stable to Eddie. It felt like a lifeline, a reminder he wasn't alone. Not like Neibolt.

"That's where I saw It." He gulped. "That's where I saw the clown."

Y/n hadn't realized immediately that she had been tracing circles into the back of his hand with the pad of her thumb. It was a habit she had developed since that first night of summer, anytime she was nervous she would tuck in her legs against her chest, and her fingers would absentmindedly find their way to her bandages. The pads of her fingers fidgeting with the frayed ends just to satisfy the creeping feeling of restlessness.

"Tha-That's where It lives," Bill said.

Eddie took another sharp breath of his inhaler, and this time around had better luck holding his breath. Y/n continued to stare at the big red dot on the map, it almost felt as if she were to look away it would disappear. Like finding a spider and leaving the room to find something to kill it with, only to return to find it had crawled away.

"I can't imagine anything ever wanting to live there," Mike said shakily.

Eddie jumped from his seat suddenly, his hand leaving Y/n's and they all watch as he scrambles to front, the projector illuminating his small frame.

"Can we stop talking about this?" Eddie yells, gasping for air his arms waiving desperately as panic overwhelms him. "I-I-I can barely breathe. Th-This is summer. We're kids. I can barely breathe, I'm up here having a fucking asthma attack. I'm not doing this."

Eddie whirls around and grabs the map of Derry's Sewer System and rips it off the wall.

"What the hell? Put the map back." Bill snaps.

Eddie shakes his head firmly. "Mm-mm."

A loud click grabs their attention, and the screen over Eddie darkens briefly before it changes to another slide.

Y/n turns around to look between Bill and the device.  
"Bill, what are you doing?"

"N-nothing, that w-wasn't me."

Another click.

And another.

The projector began clicking forward on its own, and it had now reached the beginning of the reel. Photos of the Denbrough family on vacation began to play, the photos changing at a regular pace.

"What's going on?" Stan asked impatiently.

Eddie backed away slowly, his eyes never leaving the projector. Y/n cautiously shifted back on the pillow, farther away from the wall.

"I got it. Hold on." Mike offered gently.

He fiddled with the projector, he pressed every button several times but it was no use. It must have been jammed. At the very least, he hopes it was.

"Guys," he mumbled nervously, words dying on his tongue.

Several photos had come and gone, and the projector now focused on a shot of the four Denbroughs in their Sunday best. They were all holding hands and Mrs. Denbrough's red hair was being whipped around in the wind, blocking her face.

The projector clicked again, but the scene did not change. The shot was brought closer to Georgie, and Ben was instantly reminded of his trip to the library before he met the rest of the Losers.

"Georgie," Bill croaked, as the image zoomed closer and closer to boy's toothy grin.

"Bill?"

By, now Y/n had risen from the pillow and scrambled back into the stool Eddie had previously occupied.

The speed picked up and the pictures grew faster and faster as the projector flew through the slides. The picture moved more like that of a stop motion animation than a movie, every other movement caught on film. The camera angles itself up and changes focus to what is supposed to be Mrs. Denbrough. The red tendrils of hair begin to move, rapidly increasing until it isn't every other fragment but more like a regular picture movie.

And to their horror, the hair is cast aside and underneath is the painted white face of the clown. It's unnaturally buck teeth sinking into the flesh of It's own bottom lip. A wicked smirk drawn all the way up to past It's yellow eyes.

Y/n jumped back, her arms outstretched behind her and she began herding Stan, Eddie and herself away from the wall.

"What the fuck is that? What the fuck is that?" Richie hollered, pulling Eddie and Y/n toward him.

Eddie nearly tripped over Richie's chair as he was pulled into his grasp and Y/n still had her arms out herding them backward. She could hear Eddie's shrieks clearly from behind her.

"I DON'T FUCKING KNOW!"

"Stan!" Y/n cried.

Stan had somewhat frozen in place, much like Ben, Bev and Bill had but even they were backing away slightly. He didn't seem to hear her and looked around frantically at her friends. Beverly, Stan, and Richie had not seen the clown before even though they had each encountered it. It had never appeared to them before as a clown and if she wasn't in immediate danger Beverly would have stopped to think about how this thing was in the living room with Y/n while she was asleep.

"Turn it off!" She shouted quickly. "TURN IT OFF!"

Y/n's top priority was ensuring Stan's safety, so she lurched forward and grabbed Stan by the back of the shirt, and yanked him back. He crashed into Mike and Eddie she glanced at the projector, trying desperately to bury the overwhelming thoughts and possibilities. Her eyes landed on the cord and she ripped the plug from the socket but the picture kept moving and she could feel the clown's eyes smiling at her, smugly. Her now in It's direct sights, It began to mimic that night, the clown blinked and the white's of It's eyes had disappeared. Nothing but dark chasms and two glowing yellow irises floating in the center.

It all became infinitely more real to Y/n. And It pissed her off. She raised her good leg, and with a forceful grunt, she kicked the crate and the projector toppled onto the ground. Light from the machine had bounced all around the room on its journey to the floor and it landed upside down, picture crookedly aimed at the wall behind her and to the right of the four boys.

Everyone froze, too fearful to move. Y/n most of all. She had gotten Stan to safety - she could only hope - but now she was in his place when another click echoed throughout the silent room. Frozen on the screen was the clown. It was blurry and It almost looked stuck but all Y/n could do was try and catch her breath, and calm her racing heart. Another click. She felt as if she was stuck, her body not her own and just like a nightmare no matter how much she was begging her legs to move they wouldn't budge. Another click. The image went blank, and several shaky breaths were released.

Another slow click and the gigantic clown popped out of the picture, barely missing Y/n. She shrieked, and only then did her limbs catch up with her brain's signals. She cursed herself and her dumb fucking luck when she felt her footing slip out from underneath her. One of the dozens of slides had scattered the garage floor around her and caused her fall. She landed squarely on her backside and she scrambled back as far and fast as she could as the clown crawled forward after her. It's unnaturally giant size took up the entire garage.

There wasn't a Loser who didn't scream after her. Richie snapped into action and while Y/n had made it pretty far on her own for It's speed and her aching leg, Richie quickly hooked his arms under hers and dragged her across the garage, not bothering to waste time by stopping to drag her to her feet. The others were tumbling across the garage to get the door tripping over one another as they ran and Y/n watched in horror as the clown reached out it's long and thinning twig-like arm after her. It's sharp talon-like claws soaked with her blood - as it had been that night - reached for her and as her legs were scrambling across the pavement. Trying desperately to retract them from his grasp and the last thing she saw before a flood of light engulfed her vision was the clown's black eyes glaring at her as it reached for her legs.

Y/n felt as if her lungs might explode from how fast she had been inhaling air. Before she could process what had happened she found herself looking up at the ceiling of Bill's garage, several faces looking down at her. Sunlight was flooding into the room and she could barely register that the garage door was now open.

"Y/n!"

"Oh, my God"

"What the fuck was that?"

"Y/n? Y/n!"

"I don't know, man!"

Y/n could feel herself shaking horribly, and she suddenly noticed several hands on her shoulder and back and she realized she was sitting up. She flinched at their touch and she looked around the room quickly, afraid she would find It lurking somewhere.

"Y/n, are you okay?"

"Jesus, fuck!"

"Y/n?"

Blinking several times she looked around and saw the scattered faces of her friends. Everyone was panting heavily. Her face collapsed in the palm of her hands and she was breathing frantically, reminding herself to at least try and slow her lungs and heart. Her body rocked back and forth slightly, her adrenaline still pumping, needing an outlet. Needing to move. Finally, her breath began to slow and she looked up, nodding at her friends to ease their minds.

"Thanks... Richie," she managed between breaths.

"No problem," he panted, just as jarred. "Just for fuck sake, run next time, will ya?"

Beverly and Eddie came into view and extended their hands for her and she gladly accepted both. Y/n hissed slightly at her aggravated leg and when she looked down she was relieved to see no further damage had been done. Shakily, Stan spoke up.

"T-thanks, Y/n," His eyes held relief, but also a hint of guilt.

A weak and broken smile was all Y/n could manage. Eddie had finally gathered enough air in his lungs to speak and he did just that, albeit quite shaken.

"It saw us." He panted. "It saw us, and it knows where we are!"

"It always did," Bill said, striding out towards the pile of bikes in the driveway. "So, let's go."

"Go?" Ben asked, dumbfounded.

Bill turned to see his friends still in the garage, rooted in place and looking at him incredulously.

"Go where?" Ben asked again, this time his voice wavering.

Bill couldn't believe what he was hearing.

"Neibolt." He shot. "That's where G-G-Georgie is."

Stan angrily threw his arm back, gesturing to the remains of their previous encounter.

"After that?"

"Yeah, it's summer. We should be outside." Richie said timidly, a tone they had scarcely heard him use if at all.

Bill felt anger boil up in his chest at the words, his stutter flaring up with it as it usually did.

"I-If you say it's s-summer one more f-f-fucking time..." He snapped, and he felt the anger redirect itself.

Neibolt. He was going to Neibolt with or without his friends. He was going to get his brother. Bill shook his head, dismissing the conversation. He picked up his trusty bike and hopped on. He took off down the long driveway, leaving his friends behind.

"Bill!" Beverly called. "Wait!"

The seven friends look around at one another in disbelief, as Bill disappears around the corner on the back of Silver. He was going to face it alone, and in turn, he gave the Losers no choice less they surely lose their friend.

They had to follow him.


End file.
